Downton University: A Refashioning of Lives
by cxe128
Summary: Robert Crawley is the president of Downton University, a top college in Yorkshire. But after the 2001 terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers, the university is placed in turmoil. This chronicles the lives of both the Crawley family and Downton's inhabitants - a retelling of love, loss, and everything in between. *New: Mary is drawn to an unexpected suitor; Gwen's secret is uncovered.
1. Season 1 Episode 1

**Hi everyone! Sorry for the bad summary, but this is basically a modern retelling of ****_Downton Abbey _****with my own twists, set on a college campus. Just call me the female, American, young Julian Fellowes (who will never kill off Sybil or Matthew). I mainly focus on Sybil/Tom and Matthew/Mary, but all pairings and characters will be represented (usually chronologically according to the series). I hope you enjoy this fic - bear with me, please. This is a long chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own this!**

_Downton University, Yorkshire, UK — September 11, 2001 (2:00 pm)_

It's funny what specific details the human mind chooses to remember.

What Mary Crawley always remembered about the day that everything changed for good was that she was supposed to take an exam on cash flow and that she ate a sausage Egg McMuffin at Downton University's McDonald's. Mary _never _ate fast food — it was too greasy and common for her. But she had been out late at a party the night before with her best friend Anna, a choice she instantly regretted. Now her head was throbbing from the combination of the alcohol and the dancing and she still had to take her accounting exam.

If her father ever heard about last night, Mary would be given the cold shoulder of shame for weeks. Sometimes it was so damn infuriating to have your own father as the university's president. All of the teachers told her father _everything _about her — it was like she could never get away with anything. He knew about her bad grades before she even knew herself.

Mary had to be a nearly flawless student. Mary had to hang out with the right crowd of friends. Mary couldn't go to parties. Mary even had to date the right person to uphold the Crawley family reputation of excellence. She was currently dating Patrick Crawley, the wealthy top student at Downton (and her distant cousin, a fact that no one dared to mention). It was all so exhausting — Mary was sure her younger sisters didn't have nearly this much pressure put upon them. Besides, what other college girl ate dinner with her parents every other evening?

And then there was Patrick. He was every girl's dream boyfriend — handsome, smart, kind, charming. Mary had every reason to like him, to fall in love with him even. But her heart just wasn't in it. Right now, he was away on some internship for a foreign relations job in New York. The time apart from Patrick was giving Mary time to think. She felt so _free_ without him — she didn't feel like she constantly had to put on a face of perfection the way she did around him and her father.

Which was why she had gone out and gotten absolutely plastered last night, to remind herself of what being herself actually felt like.

As Mary glanced over her notecards, somebody bumped into her, knocking both herself and her breakfast to the ground. Her notecards scattered everywhere as the wind blew them away. Livid, Mary turned to face the imbecile that had knocked into her. "How dare you!" she snapped. And she looked up into Matthew Crawley's bright sky-blue eyes.

Matthew was a law school student who was a _very _distant cousin of the Crawleys - so distant that he was from a regular middle-class family. He had never really been accepted into the family and Mary was positive he loathed her (she'd heard him telling his friends that she was a stuck-up bitch on at least two occasions). Besides that, the only things that she knew about him were that he _never _broke the rules and that he was infuriatingly handsome.

"Sorry, Cousin Mary," Matthew said with a twinge of sarcasm. Mary rolled her eyes. "For the last time, Matthew, we're not cousins. We're fourth cousins once removed."

"That still makes us cousins, last I checked," Matthew claimed, laughter creeping into his eyes.

He always had to make his point, ever the future lawyer that he was. "Never mind that now. I have an exam and I'm going to be late. Would you please be a gentleman for one minute and help me gather my notecards?" Mary asked.

Matthew bent down to help her. "Milady," he mocked, handing her the cards. "Thanks for being of service, peasant," Mary joked back. Matthew pantomimed tipping his baseball cap in mock salute to her and walked away.

Mary reviewed the basic principles of cash flow in her head. She could already tell she was going to flunk the exam. But was it really necessary to memorize the difference between investing activities and operating activities anyway? Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw throngs of panicked students rushing toward the classrooms, shouting "Attack!" Mary jolted, alarmed, and began following the mass of students toward the nearest building for safety.

—

Robert Crawley, the president of Downton University, sat down with his tea and toast to watch the news with his American wife, Cora, over breakfast. It was his favorite part of the day, the only moment of peace in a day full of long hours managing Downton.

And then suddenly, the image of a plane smashing nose-first into a tall building filled the television screen. "What in God's name?" Robert hollered, shocked. Cora looked up from her magazine. "My goodness," she exclaimed. "That's the Twin Towers, Robert!"

The Twin Towers…somehow Robert knew that he had a connection to them. "Cora, does anyone in your family work there?"

"No, thank heaven!" Cora responded. "I wonder what this is…maybe a new pilot accidentally flew the plane into the building?"

"That would be a rather big target to run into, Cora," Robert mused. And then, as if to answer their questions, a second plane plowed into the other tower just a few moments later.

And then everyone knew the collision was not just a mistake. It was entirely purposeful.

—

"Attention all students and faculty members: class is canceled for the rest of the day due to some unfortunate events in America. Please report back to your dorms or offices at once."

The intercom crackled off. "What a way to start my first day on the job, an attack on the most powerful country in the world,"John Bates muttered under his breath. If America wasn't safe, then no one was safe. Besides this, he'd already almost tripped a dozen times while helping President Crawley. He could feel the judging eyes of Sarah O'Brien, Mrs. Crawley's personal assistant, on him several times throughout the day. She'd snickered when he'd spilled President Crawley's tea all over his lap. For whatever reason, she already wanted him gone.

John suspected that he would've been fired already if he wasn't President Crawley's old friend from the Gulf War ten years before.

"It'll get better," a perky feminine voice said. "Excuse me?" John whipped around, startled. "Oh, I'm sorry if I startled you," the young woman apologized sheepishly. "I just wanted to tell you that things get better here at Downton. I hated it when I first started here, but I'll be sad when I leave here at the end of the year."

"You work here too?" John asked, surprised. The woman was a pretty and perky blonde who seemed a bit young to already be working. She laughed. "Of course not, silly. Do I really look old? I'm a fourth-year here. I'm studying to be a social worker."

John blushed at his mistake. "Of course you don't look old. You look really young…in a good way," he finished awkwardly.

Sarah O'Brien walked in just then. John swore that woman had the worst timing in the world. "My, my. Already slacking, Mr. Bates?" the other personal assistant smirked. "Of course not. I was just going to deliver this email to President Crawley," John retorted.

"If by 'going to deliver this email to President Crawley' you mean shamelessly flirting with Miss Mary's much younger best friend, then yes," O'Brien scoffed, giving John a look of contempt. "And Anna, you're supposed to be in the dorms right now for safety reasons, not talking to a cripple."

Anna glared at O'Brien. "How about you mind your own business instead of poking your nose in other people's?" she snapped defensively. "And I think it's awfully brave of Mr. Bates to be working here as a cripple. It can't be easy."

Anna shot one more look of contempt at O'Brien and scurried away. John stared longingly after her. She had been the only person all day to treat him with kindness, and he wished he could have gotten to know her better. But he realized he didn't even know her last name.

—

"What do you make of the new personal assistant to the president?" Thomas Barrow, a cocky dark-haired waiter, asked Sarah O'Brien.

"He's a bumbling war veteran who has a limp," O'Brien responded dismissively. She lit a cigarette and passed the packet to Thomas.

"How wonderful," Thomas said sarcastically. "I've been passed over for Long John Silver."

"I know, especially after all of that work that I did talking you up to Mrs. Crawley," O'Brien sighed. "I really thought you were going to get the promotion. But I guess you can never count on rich people to do you favors."

"Me too," Thomas admitted. "We worked together just fine, Mr. Crawley and me. Until Long John Silver had to go mess everything up."

"Don't you worry, he won't last long." O'Brien took a long drag of her cigarette. "He was spilling Mr. Crawley's Earl Grey on his lap. I can't imagine the president liked that too much. And he was flirting with that irritating Anna Smith."

"A match made in hell." Thomas made a face at the idea of the couple and O'Brien snickered. "Maybe we can use that to our advantage. I doubt Miss Mary would like it if she knew an old cripple was preying on her best buddy."

"And then we can covertly run the university together," O'Brien closed her eyes at the wonderful dream. "Yeah, those poshes will only _think _they're running it but in reality _we _will be running it," Thomas said wistfully. The two plotters raised their cigarettes in anticipation.

—

_7:00 pm_

"An email just came in for you, sir," Bates, Robert's new assistant, handed the university president a print-out of the email. Robert was suspicious of the Internet and only read his emails on paper. He had never adapted to change very easily.

"Thank you, Bates," Robert responded and began to scan the email. "Oh my god," he cried out, horrified at the email's contents.

Cora came running in to the office at his cry. "What is it, darling?" she asked, alarmed.

"Apparently James and Patrick were in the Twin Towers visiting a foreign trade company when the planes crashed. And some of the other workers there found James's body and Patrick is presumed to be dead," Robert spat out in disbelief.

Cora felt dizzy at the news. She gripped the back of an armchair to steady herself. "Are they quite sure — both of the inheritors to the university, dead?"

"Nothing is for certain in the chaos of New York now," Robert replied solemnly. "But I don't think there is anything more final than a dead body."

—

"Do I have to wear black now?" Mary wondered. "Because I look horribly pale in black."

"Mary Josephine Crawley," Robert admonished. "That's what you think about upon hearing the news of your boyfriend's death?"

He had just broken the news to his oldest daughter and was completely surprised at her reaction. She was acting as if Patrick's untimely death was an inconvenience to her rather than a tragedy.

"I'm sorry, Papa," Mary replied sheepishly, looking down at the pebbled path. "I was just thinking of the funeral, that's all."

"Mary, that's not all I came here to tell you." "More bad news? If it is, I don't want to hear it." Mary sighed.

"Well, you'll have to hear it now or later, so I'll just tell you now to get it out of the way." Mary anxiously braced herself. "What is it, Papa?"

"You still won't inherit Downton University, my dear daughter. It's not my decision — it was in my father's will that only men would run Downton for the next hundred years," Robert informed his daughter sadly. "That includes your mother's oil money too - you aren't the only one distressed by this."

Mary's face fell. Running Downton had always been her dream job, the reason that she studied accounting and business and tried so hard to be perfect. And now it was all for nothing - thanks to her dead, old-fashioned grandfather's will. "Even though Cousin James and Patrick are dead?" she clarified.

"Even though Cousin James and Patrick are dead," Robert echoed.

—

_One Week Later_

"It seems odd to have a funeral when we only have one of the bodies," George Murray, Robert's lawyer, observed as he and Robert exited the small university chapel.

"I know," Robert admitted. "But look at the memorial banners the students made. Look at how packed the church was. They loved Patrick, and this is the least we can do for him. And for them."

"I looked at your father's will," Murray said. "And?" Robert prompted.

"There's no possible way for any of your daughters to inherit the university. Your late father assumed you would have a son and was quite clear on that matter," Murray stated matter-of-factly.

Robert slumped down. "Mary will be crushed. And so will my wife and my mother - they've been plotting to have her inherit Cora's fortune in addition to the university. So the new heir is certainly some distant relation then?"

"As a matter of fact, he goes to Downton for law school, actually. His mother is a nursing professor here and his father is a middle-class doctor who died several years ago."

"Oh, really? I never thought I would have a lawyer in this family," Robert joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Murray laughed awkwardly — after all, he was a lawyer. "There are worse professions out there to be sure," he retorted.

The three mismatched Crawley sisters walked a few paces behind their father. The middle daughter, Edith, was sobbing uncontrollably and drew the glances of several passers-by.

Mary rolled her eyes at her younger sister. "Really, Edith - do you have to put on such a show?" she snapped coldly. "People are starting to stare at you like you're a lunatic." Mary and Edith were like night and day. Mary was a dark beauty with the face of a porcelain doll where Edith had strawberry blonde locks and a crooked nose. Mary was cold but lively where Edith was gentler but pessimistic and a bit of a downer. Mary was popular with both boys and girls where Edith was a loner. Mary was practical and studied business and Edith studied the more frivolous English. They had never gotten along and never intended to.

Sybil, the youngest Crawley daughter, glared back at her oldest sister. "She's not, Mary. Please, can you two get along for one day to honor Patrick?" Sybil was an even balance of the best traits of her two warring sisters and was the ever-constant peacemaker between the two. She had Mary's beautiful, thick dark hair but it was wavy like Edith's. Sybil was fun-loving like Mary but softer like Edith was. She had grey-blue eyes and a caring disposition like Cora but was more spirited than anyone else in the family. Sybil was unsure whether to study political science or nursing (both majors that her father hated) but she was only a first-year. She had time to figure her life out.

"But I was Patrick's girlfriend and _I _can control myself," Mary countered, unwilling to let it go. "Then you should be ashamed," Edith mumbled through her tears. Sybil handed Edith a tissue and placed a gentle arm around her sister. Stunned, Mary withdrew from her sisters and thought about Edith's barbed words.

—

_Two Weeks Later _

"Hello, Mary!"

Mary looked up from her reading at Philip Crowborough's voice. "Philip! What a pleasant surprise!" she exclaimed at the sight of her handsome fellow business student, the son of a banking CEO. "I hope so," Philip joked, running a hand through his thick hair. "I'm so sorry about Patrick," he said, his voice taking on a much more serious tone. "I didn't know him that well - I only saw him at the odd dance or two - but he was always kind." "Thank you," Mary said, the words sounding empty. Ever since the attack that's all she'd heard - pity, pity, pity.

Philip must have noticed her monotone because he deftly changed the subject. "Have you studied for Professor Bartlett's quiz yet?"

"That's what I'm doing now," Mary replied. "Although I have dinner with my parents tonight, so I'm not sure how prepared I'll actually be."

"Oh," Philip said, sounding sad. "I was hoping you'd go to dinner at the campus café tonight with me. But I guess it can wait if a woman as beautiful as yourself is busy."

Mary blushed at the compliment and the invitation. "Don't be silly. You can come with me to dinner with my parents tonight!"

"With the president of Downton?" Philip sounded intimidated. Mary laughed. "Really, my father is a softie at heart. It's my granny you should be worried about."

Philip chuckled nervously at her joke. "All right, then. I'll meet you at 7?"

—

"For the last time, James, you can't run across the campus naked," Charles Carson, the dean of discipline at Downton, lectured a mischievous student. "Yes, Dean Carson," Jimmy Kent replied, hanging his head in mock guilt.

Carson grunted, only semi-satisfied with the troublemaker's response. "If this happens again, you will be suspended. For now, you will have to assist Professor Crawley and Dr. Clarkson with emptying the bedpans of the sick students."

Jimmy groaned. "But that's not -" he trailed off, noticing Carson's thick raised eyebrows. "Yessir."

"Good," Carson replied. Jimmy left and Carson sighed in relief. The long day of dealing with the likes of Jimmy was finally done and he could unwind in his favorite way - drinking a glass of sherry with his associate, Elsie Hughes.

Mrs. Hughes was the dean of admissions to the university, a tough but kind Scotswoman. She had worked with Mr. Carson for years and the two were so close that their co-workers dubbed them "The Married Couple". Neither of them had ever actually married (Mrs. Hughes' title was one of courtesy). This type of job didn't allow time for relationships.

The two deans discussed their day, eventually turning to the topic of who would inherit Downton after the current president died. "Whoever it is, I hope that they're kind," Mrs. Hughes wished out loud. "I just wish it was Miss Mary," Carson countered. "No one knows or cares about Downton more than her. It's unfair that she won't get Downton just because she was born a girl."

"Look at you, you're less of a traditionalist than I thought!" Mrs. Hughes exclaimed teasingly. "I am certainly not!" Carson returned in mock indignance. "But I still don't understand why you like Miss Mary so much. I've always thought she was a cold, spoiled ice princess. Miss Sybil has always been my favorite," Mrs. Hughes declared.

"All the same, I feel sorry for our family," Carson remarked. "I wish they didn't have to experience this tragedy about Mr. James and Mr. Patrick."

"Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes laughed. "They're not _our family." _"Well, they're the closest thing I've ever had to a family," Carson replied gravely. It was true - he'd been an orphan passed along to different foster families who were only in it for the money.

Mrs. Hughes fell silent, considering. "Do you wonder what might have happened if the both of us had gone the other way — had a spouse, had kids?"

"Every day," Carson answered wistfully. That would've been a very different life, indeed.

—

"That's so exciting that you have a date, Mary! Lucky you, you get all the handsome men!" Anna joked. She was curling Mary's dark brown hair in their dorm room to help her friend get ready.

"Well, I for one can't believe you're already going on a date so soon after Patrick's death!" Edith yelled at Mary. "Have you no sensitivity at all?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Good thing I didn't ask for your opinion." Sybil stood up, ready to break up yet another argument between her two older sisters. "Cool it, ladies!" she exclaimed. "We have to leave for the café in ten minutes!"

Mary continued arguing anyway, ignoring Sybil. "Life moves on, Edith. Grow up — I only would've actually married Patrick if no one else came along. We were too wrong for each other." "Well, _I _would've married him if you'd just been an adult and broken up with him!" Edith flung back angrily.

Mary stood up abruptly and the curling iron clattered to the floor. "I'm more of an adult than you, you bitc-" Her insult trailed off when she noticed the murderous look on the redhead's face. "Go on! Say what you were going to say!" Edith challenged.

Sybil sighed, exasperated at the childish argument taking place before her. "Edith, Mama was asking you to go help her get ready," she lied. Sybil normally hated lying, but she figured it was all right since she was trying to stop a virtual murder. "But I thought she has O'Brien?" Edith questioned suspiciously. "O'Brien has a break tonight," Sybil lied again. "And Mama wants you to style her hair since you're so good at it."

The flattery seemed to work on Edith and she left, throwing another glare at Mary as she left.

"O'Brien has a break? Really?" Anna asked. "No, I just said that to get Edith to leave," Sybil admitted sheepishly, and Anna and Mary giggled. "Thanks, Anna, that looks perfect," Mary said, fixing a stray hair. Anna grasped her roommate's hand excitedly. "Just be yourself, he'll love you!" she advised, and left to start on her homework.

Mary glanced at her reflection in the mirror, straightening her strapless navy dress. "You look beautiful," Sybil complimented, fixing her own lavender-colored cardigan and light grey skirt. "Thanks, baby sister," Mary said lightly.

"Listen, Mary, I know you're sad about Patrick's death. You don't have to always keep your guard up. I'm always here for you if you ever need a good cry or want to get ice cream," Sybil told Mary.

"You're a darling," Mary said, grateful for her sweet younger sister. "But I'm not as sad as I should be - and that's what makes me sad."

—

The Crawley clan and Philip met in front of the Upstairs Café, an upscale French restaurant on the grounds of the campus that was the family's usual meeting spot for their bi-nightly dinners. It was run by Beryl Patmore, one of the best chefs in Yorkshire, and her young sous-chef, Daisy Robinson.

Mary had a little bit of butterflies in her stomach, nervous about how the dinner would go. She clutched Philip's hand and introduced him to each member of her family. Her father didn't seem to approve of her moving on from Patrick so soon but Cora was polite and kind. Edith scowled in anger about her argument with Mary from earlier (and from jealousy that Mary had yet another date but no man had ever given her a second look) but Sybil was as sweet and bubbly as ever. And Granny Violet? She looked like she wished that _she _was the one holding the hand of a handsome young man right now.

The young waiter, Thomas, took their orders and Mary ordered a glass of Chardonnay and mushroom risotto (she'd read on some dating blog that rice was a good food to order on a first date and figured that risotto was close enough). She laughed and acted as naturally as possible. The only member of her family who didn't seem to like Philip was Robert, who tried to avoid talking to him. But then Robert had always liked Patrick, so it was probably natural that he would hate seeing the boy who had been like a son to him replaced.

—

After the dinner, Philip and Mary left to stroll around the grounds of the university hand-in-hand. "You were perfect with my parents," Mary praised. "But your father didn't exactly warm up to me," Philip noticed. "He just doesn't like to see his little girl growing up," Mary said lightly. "You're not so little. And he'll grow to like me in time," he assured her.

_In time…_Mary realized that Philip was actually serious about being with her. She shivered in ecstasy at the thought. She liked him _so _much better than Patrick. She felt a twinge of sadness for her dead cousin at the thought but brushed it aside.

"It's lovely here at Downton," Philip observed. "Just as lovely as you." Mary's heart leaped at the compliment. "Thanks. I only wish Downton would be mine," she sighed wistfully.

Suddenly Philip stopped. "You mean Downton won't be yours?" he asked, trying to make sense of that. "No…my dead grandfather's will states that the university will only be inherited by the closest living male relation. Not me. Silly, isn't it?" she said, noticing the abrupt change in Philip's mood. She placed her arm around him but he pulled away.

"Mary, I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong impression. But I care for you only as a friend," Philip said. "But - but you were talking about us having a future together!" Mary was completely startled by Philip's admission. Philip had held her hand and complimented her looks. Someone who was just looking to be a _friend _didn't do that.

"I have to go," Philip said. He darted away and Mary stood there, shocked into silence. She realized that Philip had only liked her for her position, her money. How could she have been so naive? And she finally saw him for what he was - a filthy, sweet-talking gold digger.

And Mary Crawley did not like to be made a fool of. Philip Crowborough would pay for this.

But that would be in the morning. Right now, she just felt like crying her eyes out about everything and watching ten episodes of _Friends. _

In a way, her whole world had crumbled when the Twin towers had crumbled. She had been the president's daughter, a top student, and the girlfriend of the smart and charismatic Patrick Crawley. But now she was barely any of that, and her prospects were hopeless.

Mary reached into her purse for her flip phone. She dialed a number through tear-filled eyes and held the phone up to her ear.

"Sybil? Do you want to go get that ice cream now?"

Mary could hear the wide smile in Sybil's voice. "I thought you'd never ask, sis."

—

Thomas was finishing his duties at the café for the night when he heard a familiar whisper beckoning him to meet him in the bathroom.

Thomas hung up his jacket and hurried to the bathroom in anticipation. "Hey, Philip," he greeted the handsome student. Philip Crowborough looked excited to see him. "Thomas! It's been too long."

"The emails weren't enough," Thomas acknowledged. "How was your date with Miss Mary?" "Horrible - apparently she isn't inheriting the university anymore!" Philip exclaimed angrily. "Now I can't use that money to save my father's company! I thought you alerted me that she was available because of the money I might get if I married her!"

"I didn't know at that point," Thomas lied. "But it's so nice to see you again." "Mary doesn't know that you're my type - not her!" Philip said ruefully.

"That's for sure," Thomas whispered. "I want to be with you." He put his hand on Philip's cheek and the two men kissed passionately.

Philip broke the kiss. "We were a summer fling when no one else was on the campus and I enjoyed every minute of it. But I can't see us working - you the poor waiter, me the son of a CEO. Besides, my father couldn't deal with my coming out."

"Stay with me, or I'll show him the texts," Thomas threatened. He expected Philip to be horrified but the CEO's son merely laughed. "Good thing I have your phone then," he said and held the device up tauntingly.

"You bastard!" Thomas cried, trying to overpower Philip and get the cell phone back. He felt betrayed and outsmarted and heartbroken all at once - a combination of feelings he loathed. But Philip was too quick for him and flushed the cell phone down the toilet in the nearest stall.

"Don't be a bad loser, Thomas," Philip admonished mockingly. "Either go to bed or stay with me - your choice."

Thomas flipped him off and left in a huff.

—

_The next morning_

Matthew Crawley ran over to his mother's apartment in a rush, frantically knocking on the door. "Mum!" he cried.

The normally formidable Professor Isobel Crawley came rushing out in a worn pink bunny-patterned bathrobe and her hair in curlers. Matthew snickered at the sight. "What is it, Matthew?" his mother asked in annoyance. "I just woke up!"

"I got an email," Matthew began. "And I'm going to be the next president of Downton University."

**A/N: I hope you liked it! Want more? The more reviews, follows, and favs I get, the more I write! -cxe128**

**Here is a list of all of the characters so far, so you can keep track. **

The Crawley Family

Robert Crawley — president and graduate of Downton University, the private university his ancestors started.

Cora Crawley — Robert's American wife who also graduated from Downton and now helps out Robert.

Violet Crawley — Robert's traditional and sharp-witted socialite mother

Mary Crawley — smart and cold oldest Crawley daughter, a 4th-year student at Downton. Studies business.

Edith Crawley — overlooked and dull middle daughter, a 3rd-year student at Downton. Studies journalism.

Sybil Crawley —passionate and kind youngest daughter, a 1st-year student at Downton. Sybil has views different from her conservative family's views. Unsure whether to study political science or nursing.

Matthew Crawley — long lost distant cousin, a handsome and morally righteous law school student who will inherit Downton University instead of Mary

Patrick Crawley — son of James Crawley, Mary's third cousin and (kind of) boyfriend. Patrick studied foreign policy and was the old top student at the university

Isobel Crawley — Matthew's well-intentioned and strong-willed mother, a professor at the nursing school who is in conflict with Violet.

Staff:

Mr Carson — disciplinary dean, the strict "bad cop" of the two deans but underneath he has a warm heart

Mrs Hughes — dean of admissions, the motherlike "good cop" of the two.

Tom Branson, a handsome new professor of Introduction to Western European Politics. He is kind and outspoken and soon develops a forbidden crush.

John Bates, Robert's kindly new personal assistant who served in the Gulf War with Robert. He has a limp due to his amputated leg.

Sarah O'Brien, Cora's manipulative yet loyal personal assistant and best friend

Mrs. Patmore, the strict cook who operates the main restaurant on campus

Daisy Robinson, one of Mrs. Patmore's short-order cooks who never had the opportunity to go to college but longs to do so

William Mason, the son of a local farmer who supplies produce to the university. William works as a server at the cafe and harbors a crush on Daisy.

Thomas Barrow, a cruel waiter who can't stand the wealthy Crawleys but there is a softer side to him underneath. Secretly gay.

Students:

Anna Smith, Mary's pretty and sweet best friend who comes from a poor and rough family (4th-year). She wants to be a social worker.

Gwen Dawson, Sybil's fun and ambitious best friend who also comes from humble means (1st-year)

Edna Braithwaite, a 1st-year who hates Sybil and schemes to win over Professor Branson's affections

Ethel Parks, a sultry redhead who thinks she is above going to school and has constant love affairs (1st year)

Philip Crowborough, a student interested in dating Mary who is actually Thomas's secret lover

James "Jimmy" Kent, a mischievous troublemaker and ladies' man

Others:

Anthony Strallan, one of Robert's friends who runs an agriculture company

George Murray, Downton University's lawyer


	2. Season 1 Episode 2

Season 1 Episode 2

_October 2001 _

"I don't understand why we're rushing into this so quickly," Cora complained, strolling around the campus with Robert. "After all, Matthew Crawley only just got your e-mail yesterday and he's already meeting us for dinner."

"Matthew is still my successor," Robert responded, clutching his wife's arm. "But Patrick can't be replaced so easily! He was such a presence on the campus," Cora countered, not quite ready to move on from Patrick's death yet. It had only been a month since the Towers crashed, but it seemed like years longer.

"Cora, that's exactly why we need Matthew to acclimate to his new position so quickly." Cora looked up questioningly at her husband, not quite seeing where he was going with that. "You saw how many of the students and the faculty attended Patrick's funeral - that was the fullest the chapel had been in years. They need a new figure to rally upon, a new leader," Robert concluded.

"A new Patrick," Cora finished sadly. "Oh Robert, I still wish Mary could inherit Downton instead of a virtual stranger."

"But Murray said it's settled, whether you like it or not, my dear," Robert said matter-of-factly.

Cora was surprised at her husband's easy acceptance at Mary's expense. "Oh, nothing is really settled. Not until your mother is buried in her coffin," she joked, a smidge of hope creeping into her voice at the thought of Mary inheriting Downton.

—

"Here you are, ma'am. The president's house," the taxi driver announced to Matthew and his mother.

Matthew was less than excited to be there, looking up at the sprawling house critically. "Some people have so much and others have so little," he mused.

"I agree with you, but you need to be polite, Matthew," Isobel chided her son, a hint of annoyance palpable in her voice. "I still don't see why I couldn't just refuse the offer," Matthew retorted.

Isobel looked exasperated. "I don't see why you would. Most people vie for this position and it's just being handed down to you on a silver platter. You will be the president of Downton University, a university third only to Oxford and Cambridge in the nation."

Matthew still didn't look convinced - prestige and title had never meant two pence to him. "Of course, you could just throw this opportunity away in the trash bin with your dirty dishes and beer cans," Isobel finished triumphantly, knowing she had played the trump card with her son. Matthew had to admit that for someone who wasn't a lawyer, his mother sure knew how to construct a case for something.

"All right," Matthew sighed. But then a balding man dressed in a suit dashed out eagerly to meet him, instantly making him regret his acquiescence to Isobel's wishes. "Hello, sir. I'm Joseph Molesley, your personal assistant."

"I'm quite sure I don't need - " Matthew began, but Isobel effectively cut him off before he could say anything rude. "Wonderful! I'm Professor Isobel Crawley, and this is my son, Matthew," she said brightly. A woman dressed in an apron stepped out too, introducing herself as their new cleaning woman and chef.

Molesley made a note to himself as Matthew sulked away after his mother. "I won't let them change me," he declared fiercely.

Isobel feigned confusion. "Why on God's green earth would they want to change you?"

This time Matthew was the one to look exasperated, unable to grasp that his intelligent mother was missing the obvious. "Mum, President Crawley has just made the unwelcome discovery that his closest successor is a middle-class law student who prefers fish and chips to filet mignon and is the son of a middle-class doctor and a nurse."

"Upper middle-class," Isobel corrected. After all, she was a professor.

"All the same, he'll have to limit the damage by changing me into one of _them_," Matthew explained. _"_The personal assistant and the cleaning woman are only the first step. And if you've ever met that snobbish Mary Crawley, you'd know that it's not exactly a good thing to become one of them. I just want to go back to being a regular grad student, Mum!"

Isobel sighed. "The Crawley family expects that you won't be cultured, that you'll dismiss the hired help at the first chance you get. Just promise me you'll keep an open mind and that you'll prove them wrong."

"I have to be myself, Mum! I'll be a lawyer soon and I have to be honest with everyone about who I am. And I'll be choosing my own wife, before you get any ideas about playing the matchmaker. It's _my _life, after all," Matthew told his mother firmly.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she protested.

"Clearly, they're going to want to shove one of the daughters at me! They will have zeroed in on that ever since they heard I was single, especially if they want to keep Downton in their family! Oh well, as long as they don't force me to date that ice princess Mary, I'll be fine," Matthew snapped back.

"Snobbish ice princess Mary, at your service," a cool female voice rang out.

Matthew was stunned into silence at the sight of _her. _Mary Crawley was beautiful, to be sure, but a severe and cold beauty with those snapping brown eyes and perfectly plucked dark eyebrows to match. And the cold politeness of her voice was set off by the look of appraisal painted in her eyes and on her pink lips. Matthew wondered how much of what he'd said she'd actually overheard.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting something," Mary said, her voice dripping with false politeness as she strode over to meet her new relatives.

"Miss Crawley, how lovely to meet you," Isobel said stiffly, shooting a glance full of daggers at her son.

"Call me Mary." Again, the fake cordialness of her voice set Matthew at unease at her two-faced manner and in awe of how she could play two parts at once.

"My mum sent me to ask you to dine with us tonight at the Upstairs Café — unless you're too tired from poring over your textbooks." Mary shot a pointed look at Matthew and waited for the Crawleys' answer.

"Of course. Thanks so much for the invitation," Isobel said politely, shaking Mary's hand.

Mary turned to go back inside the house, and Matthew sprinted after her. "Mary! Wait!" he called, feeling guilty over his unfair insults about her. Even though she pranced around Downton as if she owned the place and expected everyone to cater to her every whim, he knew her as little more than a pretty face and campus royalty — what kind of lawyer was he to judge her without having all of the facts about her?

Mary spun around, seemingly irritated. "What?" "I hope you didn't misunderstand me — I was only joking!" Matthew apologized weakly.

"Oh, I didn't misunderstand you," Mary responded, her face unreadable. "Oh, good!" Matthew was relieved not to completely get off on the wrong foot with his distant cousin. "I know exactly what you meant, and what you meant was to insult me," Mary snapped, a tinge of hurt in her voice. "But I agree with you — this whole inheriting business is a complete joke."

She dashed away in frustration to the safety of her parents' house.

—

Thomas lounged around in the staff room, sharing a smoke with Sarah O'Brien. All anyone could talk about was the future president of Downton University, and O'Brien always knew the latest gossip, which she gleaned from various tactics of eavesdropping, blackmailing, and flattery. Thomas was up to his usual tricks, including pulling the chair out from under his subordinate waiter, a kind working-class teenager by the name of William Mason.

"So what do you think we'll make of Matthew Crawley?" Thomas asked his co-conspirator. O'Brien laughed spitefully. "I can't think we'll think too highly of him. I mean, his mum's just a professor who hasn't even got a personal assistant."

John Bates overheard the scheming duo and limped over to them. "What, so that determines a person's worth now?" he countered.

"No one invited you into the conversation, Aquaman," Thomas cruelly mocked the war amputee. John shook with a mix of frustration and embarrassment, but reminded himself not to do anything rash. He was already close enough to losing his job anyway thanks to his prosthetic leg. "Hey, be kind," a soft but fierce voice chimed in.

John looked up and saw Anna, arm-in-arm with a pretty redheaded teen. He wondered sometimes why she still stuck up for him after everything — it wasn't even like she knew him that well.

"As if we have to do anything you say," O'Brien scoffed disdainfully. "You're not even supposed to be in the staff room, Anna!"

"No, but Mary sent me with a message for you," Anna explained. "She said her mother might need you to help her get ready for the dinner with the new heir to Downton tonight. Anyway, I work as a waitress part time - I am technically allowed to be here."

"Here to stick up for your boyfriend, I see," Thomas mocked. "He's not man enough to stick up for himself, is he?"

At that, John straightened up angrily, but Anna touched his arm gently. "Let it go, they're not worth it. They're just jealous that no one has ever cared about either of them in their lives," she said softly.

John and the redheaded girl both snickered as Thomas and O'Brien both looked furious. Anna led John and her friend away. "I'm sorry you had to deal with them," she apologized. "It's not your fault," John assured her. "But why do you bother to help me? It only makes things worse for you to help a cripple like me."

"Because you're my friend," Anna replied simply, touching his hand. "And that's what friends do, silly."

John smiled at her words and at her touch. "I'm John, Mr. Crawley's personal assistant," he introduced himself to the girl with the red hair.

"I'm Gwen Dawson, Anna's co-worker at the café," she responded. "Anna sure talks a lot about you!"

"She does?" John was shocked. "Gwen's working here as a waitress now to try to save up for college," Anna informed John. "Impressive," he complimented the younger girl.

"But I doubt I'll ever be able to go. I'm too poor, even if Dean Hughes and the administration here would allow it," Gwen lamented.

"You don't know that! Your friend here won a partial scholarship, and you can too. All you've got to do is keep trying," John encouraged her. Anna grinned at him, pleased that he was getting along so well with the girl who was like a little sister to her. She felt flurries in her stomach whenever she spoke to him, although she hadn't mentioned him to Mary yet. Mary was a pragmatist, and she would say that John was too old for her, even though he couldn't be more than fifteen years her senior. Anna knew her own mother would think the same thing.

So he would be Anna's (and Gwen's) little secret for the time being.

—

Mary sat on her bed in her bathrobe, getting ready for another dinner with her family. She was less than excited to be seated next to Matthew for the next hour and a half - and he seemed to be just as unenthusiastic as she was, if his insults about her that she'd overheard earlier were any clue. Nevertheless, she had to look her best and dress to impress, so she selected a sleek black cocktail dress with sheer lace sleeves.

Mary opened the door to see her mother. "Hello, Mama," she greeted her. "Mary, I just wanted to ensure you'll be polite to our guests tonight," Cora said as a way of greeting her eldest daughter. Mary rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Mama, why are they even here if you're going to undo Grandpa's will?"

"That's the thing," Cora sighed, helping Mary into her dress. "Your father and his lawyer aren't certain that they _can _undo the will."

Mary's hopes were dashed yet again - she should've learned by now not to get them up, after everything that had gone terribly in this first semester. "But you'll still try?" she implored Cora desperately.

"Your granny and I will try everything possible to let you inherit Downton," Cora replied, wincing at the mention of her mother-in-law. "An unlikely alliance if there ever was one," Mary observed teasingly. "Well, desperate times call for desperate measures," Cora joked. "But actually, I can't bear to see my fortune go to someone else and your granny can't bear to see the estate go to a middle-class lawyer who's practically a stranger. That makes us 'allies, not friends' as she would put it."

"But Papa's not willing to try," Mary noticed, feeling disappointed that her father wouldn't support her completely. "Not yet," Cora admitted. "So, what are Matthew and Isobel Crawley like?" she asked, trying to steer the subject away from Robert's stance on the successor of Downton.

"Cousin Isobel seemed nice - but Matthew's awfully full of himself," Mary scoffed. "Really? Why?" Cora asked, surprised. "Oh, just an impression, but you can see for yourself," Mary responded, her tone letting her mother know that she didn't wish to discuss _that _subject any longer either.

Cora picked up on this and sighed at her daughter's irritable mood but decided to drop the topic. "Come on, dear, let's go down to dinner before we're late."

—

The Upstairs Café was in full business mode as the cooks tried to perfect the feast for their employer and their future employer. Amid the hustle and bustle, the young sous-chef in training, Daisy Robinson, stopped stirring the pot of onion soup for a brief second to wipe her sweaty brow, anxiously looking up to see if her boss, Mrs. Patmore, noticed. But nothing ever escaped Mrs. Patmore's meticulous glare. "Daisy!" she hollered angrily, her plump face turning the color of a ripe cherry tomato. "What in God's name are you resting for? You can't slack now, we have to prepare dinner for your future employer. Get back to stirring before I knock you down and serve your brains as fritters to the Crawleys!"

Daisy quickly returned to her careful stirring of the pot, sighing at the fact that her boss was so hard on her. She'd never even finished her schooling beyond a few years of basic culinary courses because she'd been so desperate to get away from a struggling family that didn't care one way or another about her. The job at Downton University had seemed like a door opening unlimited opportunities for her — and maybe it was. But she hadn't expected Mrs. Patmore to be almost as verbally abusive as her own pa.

William rushed in with a thick package and handed it to Gwen. "I've got a parcel for you, they just delivered it," he told her. Gwen looked oddly nervous but thanked him, straightening her black waitress uniform.

"Gwen and I will want some very precise reporting when dinner's over since we won't be waiting on them," Anna shouted to William and Thomas over the din of pots and spoons clanging. "Mary said Matthew's pretty full of himself, but I don't have any classes with him so I'll have to see for myself."

"Are we to treat him like we treat President Crawley, with 'yes sir' and 'no sir' and all that?" William asked Thomas.

"Oh hell no, not a doctor's son from Manchester. He'll be lucky if he gets a civil word out of me!" Thomas scoffed. "We're all lucky if we get a civil word out of you," Anna snapped back, and Gwen and William laughed.

Thomas prickled at the insult. "Oh look, Anna has her own laugh track now!" he said mockingly about Gwen and William, relishing the blushes of embarrassment that evidently developed on each of their faces. "I'll interpret that as a compliment. At least people think I'm funny," she returned, walking away to take a customer's order.

"Daisy!" Mrs. Patmore yelled again. "I told you to add bay leaves to the soup, not parsley! Have you gone selectively deaf?"

—

Matthew finally walked into the café — fifteen whole minutes late. His mother glared at him, the grandmother looked at him with utter disgust, and he could have sworn that Mary was snickering in amusement at his faux-pas.

He approached the table nervously. "Hello, I'm sorry for being late. I just had to study with a friend for a midterm exam I have on Monday."

"Oh, it's completely fine," a pretty brunette that he vaguely recognized as President Crawley's wife said kindly. "It's good that you prioritize your studies over a silly dinner." Matthew smiled in relief. Maybe not all of the Crawleys were as cold as Mary — the president's wife seemed quite nice. "Here, Thomas, take Matthew's coat for him," she said, signaling a dark-haired waiter.

Matthew noticed that the waiter - Thomas - looked at him contemptuously as he removed his North Face jacket. Matthew awkwardly thanked him, feeling weird about the poshness that he wasn't accustomed to. The restaurant was really nice - the type of restaurant with a fixed menu that students only ate in if they were trying to impress a hot date or if their parents were Crawleys really didn't like to do anything themselves, did they? With all of the cleaners and personal assistants and waiters they could pay for with their millions, they wouldn't need to.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew," President Crawley, a burly man with graying brown hair, said. "Yes, we're so excited to be here, aren't we, Matthew?" Isobel said pointedly. "Oh yes, President Crawley, _just so excited," _Matthew added a bit of sarcasm to his polite words, hoping his mother would pick up on it. After all, she'd been the one who'd forced him to go from being an average graduate student to _this_ nonsense_. _

Either Isobel didn't notice his sarcasm or didn't care, because she didn't throw a disapproving professor look his way. President Crawley forged on with the introductions. "Call me Robert, or Cousin Robert," he said amiably, and Matthew immediately felt bad for his own unenthusiastic attitude toward the Crawley family's kindness. "Of course," Matthew tried to place more enthusiasm into his voice.

"This is my wife, Cora," Robert continued, nodding at the kind dark-haired woman. "My daughters: Mary, Edith, and Sybil." He pointed them out according to their age. Of the three, Matthew only slightly knew Mary and recognized Edith from seeing her around the campus, but he had never seen Sybil before. Edith smiled awkwardly at him, Mary gave him a stone-cold glare, and Sybil tossed him a reassuring smile.

Matthew shook each of their hands and Cora told him to sit next to Mary, who looked rather disappointed at that. "This is my mother, Mrs. Violet Crawley — technically Lady Crawley, because our family comes from noble blood — but I don't use those titles too much anymore," Robert continued, nodding at the elderly woman dressed in purple who was regarding them haughtily. Isobel stepped forward with her hand outstretched. "What should we call each other?" she asked pleasantly.

Violet looked at Isobel's proffered hand as if it was offending her personally. "Well, we could always start with Professor Crawley and Lady Crawley," she suggested, refusing to shake Isobel's hand.

—

"So you're a nursing professor, Cousin Isobel?" Sybil asked with interest over the plates of salad nicoise. "I've always thought nursing was such a selfless job."

"One that you won't ever be doing," Robert put in, and Sybil looked hurt for a split second before changing her face back to its polite, calm expression.

"Yes, I teach Nursing Fundamentals here," Isobel responded. She considered adding that Sybil should take her class, but then she reminded herself of Robert's face when Sybil had acted interested about nursing and she thought better of it. "I really would like to improve the quality of the campus hospital here, but we haven't found the money to pay for it."

"Oh good, let's bring money into the dinner conversation," Violet responded sarcastically. Isobel looked stricken. "I was only —" Robert cut her off. "Mama used to help out at the hospital when my father was the president of Downton. She's still pretty interested in it," he explained. "Really," Isobel remarked.

"And Matthew, you're a law student, right?" Cora asked. Matthew nodded, making sure not to speak with his mouth full of salad. "I didn't go here for undergrad though - I studied prelaw at the University of Manchester, but then Mum got the teaching job here."

William cleared the salad dishes as Thomas arrived with the meats for the main course. "Here, you choose it yourself," he patronizingly told Matthew. "Yeah, I know. But thanks," Matthew said, selecting a piece of chicken in a fancy sauce that he definitely didn't know how to pronounce.

"Don't worry, you'll eventually get used to the way we Crawleys do things," Mary said kindly. Matthew looked up suspiciously at her sudden change of attitude toward him. "Yeah, you're right. I'm used to a very different type of life than you, I guess," he responded, thinking in his head that he was used to a much more do-it-yourself life than she was.

"Anyway, I have an internship coming up soon with a law firm in Ripon called Havel and Carter. I'll be working on industrial law," Matthew continued. Violet suddenly looked up with interest. "Oh really? So you won't be defending O.J. Simpson on a murder he obviously committed, then?" she asked dryly. Matthew had to laugh at Violet's clearly limited knowledge of what most lawyers actually did — desk work.

Robert looked disapproving at this news. "Matthew, you do know I plan to involve you in running Downton, right?"

"Don't worry, I'll help out with that on the weekends," Matthew said reassuringly.

Violet looked completely bewildered. "What-what is a weekend?" she asked, very much like a kindergartner would innocently ask their teacher what something was.

Matthew was surprised that she didn't know what a weekend was after all of the years she spent being married to the president of a university. "Granny was a former debutante - she's never had an actual job even though she still thinks she knows everything," Mary whispered to Matthew, and he laughed, covering his mouth with a napkin. Mary joined in his laughter as the rest of the table looked confused and soon the pair of them were just laughing and talking easily the rest of the night. The ice was finally broken, and they were acting as if they'd known each other their entire lives.

—

_The next morning — Saturday_

"I just can't believe he still wants to be a lawyer!" Thomas said incredulously in the break room over a cup of English Breakfast tea. "After they said they want him to run Downton, too!"

"Why shouldn't he be a lawyer? _I _think it's wonderful that he knows what it's like to really work," Gwen countered. "Well, true gentlemen wouldn't work as a smarmy lawyer, silly," O'Brien said patronizingly.

Anna, who worked the full day on Saturdays that way she could go out with her friends during the night, exchanged a glance with John. "Don't listen to her, Gwen. Her logic's pretty faulty if you ask me." "Well, no one asked you," O'Brien snapped defensively.

"I just feel bad for Molesley, his personal assistant. I mean, that lawyer probably won't even let him do anything. Not a job I'd want," Thomas observed.

"Then why did you apply for it?" John questioned curiously.

"To get away from you, Mr. Bates," Thomas quipped sharply.

Dean Carson strolled in and everyone stood up nervously. Besides Robert, he was widely viewed as an important figure of authority at the university, having had years of experience in his job. As he poured himself a fresh mug of tea, his sharp eyes centered on an imperfection. He approached William and William swallowed nervously. "Your uniform has a tear in the shoulder, lad," he remarked disapprovingly. "Sorry, sir," William said in a near whisper. "Never appear in that state of undress again — a good worker at all times retains a sense of pride and dignity that reflects the pride and dignity of the place he serves. And never make me remind you of it again."

Dean Carson walked away, and Daisy placed a small hand on William's shoulder. "Cheer up. He's like that to everyone." "But it's the first time I've ever gotten yelled at, and I don't want to lose this job. What would my dad think?" William lamented. "If I had a pound for every time he's been furious at me, I'd be as rich as the Crawleys," Daisy joked.

"He's just seemed extra tense lately. And I've seen him around the café's kitchen a lot lately - maybe that has to do with it," Anna mused.

—

Robert was in the middle of looking over some documents when John announced that Violet was waiting to see him. Robert groaned and got up to meet her — but as he did, O'Brien subtly kicked John's cane away and he fell onto the floor right in front of Violet. Violet clucked disapprovingly. "You ought to get a new assistant who can walk more than 5 feet before tripping," she whispered. John reddened in embarrassment. "Mama, he saved my life in the Gulf War. And he works hard. I can't exactly dismiss him," Robert told her.

"What do you want?" he asked "Be more excited to see your mother, Robert," Violet said, amused. "Sorry, but it always seems like you only talk to me when you want something." "That's true, I'll give you that," Violet conceded wryly.

"I think Mary should marry Matthew," she stated bluntly.

"What?!" Robert was completely astonished, having expected his mother to ask him and Cora to throw a party or something instead of _that. _"But we just met him officially last night!"

Violet shrugged. "So?"

"Never mind that. I thought you didn't like him?" Robert was bewildered.

"Oh, what does it matter? I have plenty of friends I don't like. But he's a nice boy, even if he's a lawyer," Violet countered.

"Would you want Mary to marry one of those friends you don't like? I mean, this is her life, too. Sometimes I forget she's just like any other twenty-one year old," Robert admitted.

"Why do you always have to pretend to be nicer than me?" Violet shot back.

"Maybe I am," Robert told her. "At least I want my daughter to choose her own life. She's had it rough lately what with Patrick and the inheritance business, and I just want her to be happy."

Violet wasn't going to let her son win their argument. "Then pity Cora. She's the one whose entire oil fortune must go to this odd young man who talks about weekends and industrial law jobs. If Mary were to marry him, then all would be resolved."

—

Anna hung up her waitress jacket in the back room of the café. "I'm going out with Mary to a concert, I'll see you later," she called to Gwen. Gwen didn't acknowledge her at first, so Anna walked over. "Gwen?"

Gwen hurriedly shut the piece of paper she was writing on. "Yeah?" "I was just letting you know I'm leaving for the day. But what have you got there?" Anna asked curiously.

Gwen was quick to protest. "Nothing!" "What kind of nothing?" Anna pressed on. "Ooh, have you got a crush that you're writing love notes to, Gwen?" she asked teasingly.

Gwen laughed. "No. As if we could even meet any men who aren't like Thomas or William here." "I don't know about that." Anna flushed, thinking of John.

She decided to change the subject, realizing Gwen wasn't going to share whatever her secret was just yet. "Mary's going to need extra cheering up tonight. John heard old Mrs. Crawley telling President Crawley that she wants Mary to get married to Matthew, who she barely knows!"

"Huh. It kind of makes sense though — Mary was going to marry Patrick, right? Isn't marrying Matthew kind of the same thing?" Gwen wondered.

"Yeah, but I know Mary better than anyone else does. Most people think she's a bitch because of her attitude, but I've known her since first year orientation and I know she isn't deep down. She knows what she wants, most of the time anyway. And I don't think she would have been submissive enough to marry Patrick when it came down to it."

—

Matthew walked to his mother's apartment to ask her for some money, but when he got there, he saw Cora and Violet sitting there talking to her over some sugar cookies and iced tea. All three women looked shocked to see him, as if they'd just been talking about him.

"Hey, everyone. Mum, can I please borrow forty pounds for a sweatshirt?" he asked. "Um, sure. Just let me get my wallet," Isobel got up to get her purse, leaving Matthew in an awkward silence with Cora and Violet until she returned, handing him a few bills.

"We have to go," Cora said, grabbing her scarf and coat. "But you'll think about it?" Violet pressed Isobel. Matthew wondered what the hell they'd been talking about. "Of course," Isobel nodded.

—

Gwen was closing down the restaurant alone when she heard a mysterious quiet scuffle coming from the kitchen. "Hello?" she called out, immediately feeling like an idiotic girl in a horror movie who asked if the murderer was there and then got brutally murdered.

She darted into the kitchens, gathering all of her bravery, and saw Dean Carson there, grabbing food from the fridge and placing it in a plastic bag. "Dean Carson?" she asked, confused why the dean of discipline was stealing food from the kitchen. The dean jumped, startled. "I thought no one was here," he said sheepishly.

"Do you need help?" Gwen asked tentatively. "Er, no. But thanks…Gwen," Dean Carson refused her offer of help anxiously, checking her nametag for her name.

—

_Monday_

"I've never seen anything so odd," Gwen whispered to John. "What?" He was curious. "Dean Carson was in the kitchen last night, and he appeared to be stealing something. But don't tell anyone yet!" Gwen confessed.

"I'm sorry, but I have standards," O'Brien was saying to Thomas through a mouthful of crisps. "And if anyone thinks I'm going to bow and scrape to this Mr. Nobody from Nowhere -"

Just then, Cora walked in to the break room, causing all of the faculty - waiters and professors alike - to stand. "O'Brien," she said scoldingly. "Yes, ma'am?" O'Brien looked oddly frightened of what Cora was going to say.

"Were you discussing Matthew Crawley?" Cora asked, but something in her tone told O'Brien she already knew the answer. "Caught her there," John whispered to Gwen, who giggled quietly.

"Yes, I was," O'Brien said, ashamed to have been caught. "Is it your place to do so, especially since his mother is your colleague?" Cora continued, and Isobel looked up indignantly at the personal assistant.

"I've got opinions, just like anyone else," O'Brien defended herself, wringing her hands nervously.

Mrs. Hughes heard the commotion and scurried over. "Do you need anything, Mrs. Crawley?" she asked. "Oh, I just came down here to discuss some potential charity scholarships with you, which we can do later. But then I heard O'Brien speaking in an appalling, disrespectful manner about Downton's new inheritor," Cora responded, with a pointed look at O'Brien.

"But - But you don't like him yourself, ma'am. You never wanted him to—" O'Brien protested, realizing as soon as she finished speaking that she'd made a mistake.

Isobel was furiously clenching the arms of her chair and the look on Cora's normally placid face was sheer ice."You're sailing perilously close to the wind, O'Brien. If we're to be friends, you will not speak in that way again about the Crawleys or any member of my family. Now, I'm going up to take a little catnap. Wake me up at 3:30, please." She exited with poise, nodding at Isobel as if to apologize for O'Brien's behavior.

"I don't think that's fair," Thomas said indignantly. "Not here in the staff room in front of all of your co-workers, at least." "I agree. If she was a real professional, she wouldn't have come down here. She'd have paged me and then yelled at me, that's all," O'Brien was enraged and embarrassed from her dressing-down in front of all of the other faculty members.

"This isn't their territory, we can say what we like down here," Thomas added. "Who says?" Mrs. Hughes put in. "The law. And parliament. There is such a thing as free speech. Mrs. Crawley should know that, she's from America after all." Thomas retorted, stubbornly coming to his ally's defense.

"Not when I'm in charge! Don't push your luck, Thomas," Mrs. Hughes scolded. "Now, tea's over. Back to work!" she hollered at all of the faculty, who were currently gawking at O'Brien. "

"'Friends - as if!"' O'Brien scoffed as she sauntered away. "Who does she think she's fooling? We're not friends." But O'Brien's severe voice seemed more hurt and vulnerable than usual, her voice portraying the opposite of what she was saying.

"You're not?" John asked, surprised. He had always been pals with Robert despite their new employer-employee relationship, so he couldn't see why Sarah O'Brien and Cora Crawley weren't the same way based off of the amount of time they spent together. "Nope. And you're not friends with the president, neither. We're employees, you and me, and they pay us to do as we're told, that's all."

—

"Mr. Carson?" Carson looked up from his papers with a jolt at the female voice. It was Gwen, the ginger-haired waitress who'd seen him gather the food in the kitchen. With growing dread, he wondered if she'd told anyone about what she saw. He was done for if she had.

"Yes, Gwen? What are you doing here?" he asked anxiously. Gwen noted his expression and wondered about everything she'd seen lately concerning the dean of discipline. "A man was at the Upstairs Café asking for you. He said he knew you, so I brought him here."

And then Carson looked upon the face of the man of his nightmares. "Grigg," he spat. "What in God's name are you doing here?"

"I came to receive my dues, except you weren't there," the grizzled older man told Carson. "Dues?" Gwen was confused. "Mr. Carson, do you owe this man money?"

She'd caught him in the act. Now there was only one person who could help him deal with his old friend — the person who he least wanted to learn his secret.

"Gwen, do me a favor and bring me the president," Carson commanded, and the petite waitress scurried off. Minutes later she returned with Robert Crawley.

"What's going on, Dean Carson?" he asked, glancing between Grigg and the dean. "This scoundrel, Grigg, was my old theater partner before I went to university," Carson began anxiously.

"Carson? You did the theater, old chap?" Robert sounded amused rather than angry. "Yessir, we were the Charming Charlies, a comedy act," Grigg responded cheerfully. Robert and Gwen both began to snicker, and Gwen covered her mouth before she could be reprimanded by one of her superiors.

Carson's face flushed red at the mention of his past. "And then I went to university, and he -" Carson pointed at Grigg. "-he became a lazy bank robber."

Everyone else in the office gasped. "Yes, for the past week, he threatened to reveal my past. He blackmailed me, sir! He told me to feed him, to give him money or he'd publicly shame me."

"So what did you do?" Robert questioned tentatively, dreading the answer from his trusted dean. "I paid him money from my own paycheck and fed him from the Upstairs Café," Carson whispered, shame palpable from his voice. "She " - he nodded at Gwen - "saw me try to gather some food."

Robert looked furious, and Carson braced himself for his boss's rage. "You bastard!" he exclaimed, directing his anger at Charles Grigg instead. "First you rob a bank, then you blackmail my best employee!" Carson's heart swelled in relief at the compliment.

"That's about the size of it," Grigg replied, trying to edge out of the office.

"Well, you won't get away with it. I'll call the police myself if you ever come back to Downton, Grigg! I'll give you twenty pounds and that's all," Robert stated sternly, passing the thief a note. Grigg grabbed the money and quickly left.

"Why didn't you turn him in, Carson?" Robert was confused. "Because once upon a time, he was my best friend. And I couldn't do that to my best friend," Carson admitted.

"Just don't hide your past from me again, Carson. I'll be asking you some stories about your theater career later!" Robert joked.

—

"Mary, you look so upset. Are you all right?" Sybil asked, noting Mary's tense expression as the sisters ate lunch at the student union together. "Mama told me Granny and Papa think the best way to keep the university in our family would be marrying Matthew," Mary wearily told her. "And I don't exactly want to do that."

Sybil looked surprised but Edith didn't. "I'll take him if you don't want him!" she exclaimed eagerly. "He's not that desperate," Mary shot back dismissively. "Mama said she didn't see any point in disliking him anymore, now that he's here and he turned out to be nice. She said I'd be able to partly run the university, too, so that's something, I guess."

"There's got to be another way, right?" Sybil wondered out loud. "This is 2001, not 1912. _You _should be able to choose who you want to be with, not Mama and Papa and Granny."

"Mama and Granny still want to change Grandpa's will, so we'll see. But Papa doesn't think there's a chance, so marrying Matthew might be my only choice." Mary sighed, pressing her palm to her temples. Another headache. She'd been getting them for weeks now, ever since Patrick's death. The pressure and weight of her family's expectations must finally have been catching up to her.

"I mean, it might not be so bad," Sybil said, ever the optimist. "I thought you two got along marvelously at dinner! You were laughing and chatting away and all. He's actually pretty cute, too!"

"I _like _Matthew - more than I thought I would - but I don't want to marry him, at least not yet. I barely know him and he used to call me a stuck-up bitch," Mary confessed. "Maybe because you are a stuck-up bitch," Edith muttered under her breath. "He's my distant cousin too — people only didn't make fun of me to my face for dating Patrick because everyone adored him. Plus he can barely hold a fork right or speak without his mouth full of food," Mary scoffed, continuing as if she hadn't heard Edith.

"Oh Mary, you exaggerate," Sybil laughed. "Who really cares how someone holds a fork anyway?" she wondered. "Don't let Granny hear you say that," Mary warned teasingly. "She'd have a seizure right on the spot!"

"Someone's manners shouldn't make a difference, though," Sybil giggled, making a point of talking with her mouth full of her burger. "See, this is how I'm talking now — just like you said Matthew talked. It's not so bad, is it? Does it change your opinion of me?" "Not really, because you're usually polite, even though now I can see chewed-up cow and mayo in your teeth" Mary observed wryly.

"Then it shouldn't be a reason for you to not fall for Matthew," Sybil said. "It's old-fashioned and pretentious to do that."

"Oh Sybil, what would you know about these things? You're only eighteen. Mama and Papa don't expect anything from you and they expect everything from me. You're barely old enough to drink beer," Mary scoffed defensively, talking down to Sybil as if she was just a kid.

Sybil's cheeks burned. She _hated _it when Mary treated her patronizingly, as if she was too foolish and young and naive to do anything or to know anything. Half the time Mary only told her secrets to Edith, even though she acted like she hated her.

"Hey! You don't know everything about my life, Mary. It's harder than you'd think, and I do drink sometimes," Sybil defended herself. "No offense," she added hurriedly, not wanting to anger Mary. Her older sister was absolutely terrifying when you were the object of her irritation.

"None taken." Fortunately, Mary was amused by her sister's outburst rather than angry. "Anyway, I have other romantic options besides Matthew. I actually just found a guy on that I might get a cup of coffee with!"

"Ooh, is that E.N.?" Edith asked curiously. "Yes, but how did you know?" Mary looked irritated. "I saw his online message account on your computer when you left the tab up and I just had to take a look!" Edith responded defensively, and Mary threw a glare her direction and muttered something about respecting people's privacy.

"Just tell me too! It's no fair if she knows too!" Sybil begged Mary, leaning forward eagerly for the gossip.

Mary sighed, feeling cornered by her sisters. "His name is Evelyn Napier."

Sybil snickered, almost spitting out the sip of water she'd just drank. "Evelyn? Isn't that a girl's name?"

"Yeah, I guess," Mary said, smiling in spite of herself. "But he's cute and he's nice and he's rich so that's enough for me."

—

Mary didn't want to ask Matthew outright if he knew about their parents' conspiracy for them to wed. She instead decided, in classic Mary fashion, to stealthily get her meaning across to gauge his reaction.

"I've been studying the story of Andromeda in my Classics class, do you know it?" she asked at a family dinner one night when Violet had once again pointedly sat her next to Matthew.

"Of course, I took that class a few years ago. Why?" Matthew was bemused by Mary's sudden change of topic.

"Well, her father was King Cepheus, whose country was being ravaged by storms, and in the end, he decided the only way to appease the gods was to sacrifice his eldest daughter to a hideous sea monster. So, they chained her naked to a rock."

"Really, Mary, we don't need to hear the plot of a pornographic movie," Violet remarked dryly, uncomfortable at her granddaughter's _unsuitable _choice of conversation.

Mary rolled her eyes. "It's a Greek myth, Granny, not a sex tape."

"But the sea monster didn't get her, did he?" Matthew asked. Sybil was sitting on the edge of her chair. Her blue eyes were darting back and forth between her sister and her cousin, intent on the family drama taking place right before her eyes.

"No. Just when it seemed he was the only solution to her father's problems, she was rescued," Mary answered.

"By Perseus," Matthew recalled, still trying to decipher Mary's true meaning. He looked up at her symmetrical face for a clue, transfixed by her lovely chocolate eyes.

"That's right. Perseus, the son of a god. A handsome hero. Rather more fitting, wouldn't you say?" Mary asked pointedly. And then Matthew got her meaning: she was angry about the marriage idea. She didn't want to marry him — she wanted someone better, someone who wouldn't steal her university from her right under her nose. He was the sea monster to her Andromeda in her story. And all he wanted to do was to be her dashing Perseus, the hero to save her and to fall for her. And to think a few weeks ago he used to hate her.

"That depends. I'd have to know more about the princess and the sea monster in question," Matthew responded, taking great care to keep the hurt from his voice.

Mary glanced at him thoughtfully and then turned to Sybil, who was seated on her other side. "I'm thinking I'll ask Evelyn Napier to go to the rugby match with me next weekend."

"Really?" Sybil was completely surprised. She'd noticed Matthew's stricken look when he'd realized what Mary meant by telling him Andromeda's story.

"Yes. After all, who would want a sea monster when they could have Perseus?"

**A/N: I know, I'm sorry for staying away so long! I have been absolutely swamped with school and everything. Also, these chapters take so long to write that I either condensed or got rid of a few storylines, like Isobel vs. Violet at the hospital. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter. How is my modern adaptation? Did you like it? Remember, reviews are my motivation. Like food, they energize me to be more active :).**


	3. Season 1 Episode 3

**Chapter 3**

_November 2001_

The entire university was abuzz with excitement for the upcoming rugby match between Downton and Oxford. Signs urging students to purchase tickets had been strung up across the campus, in addition to blue banners emblazoned with Downton's ever-popular mascot - the golden lion. Many professors even promised extra credit to students who would show school spirit by attending the game. The rugby team was practicing twice a day rather than their usual single practice as the coach made a final effort to whip his team into the best fighting shape possible as they prepared to face one of their biggest rivals.

Mary felt only a tiny twinge of guilt for actively pursuing a member of the enemy school and asking him to accompany her to the game.

To her own surprise, she'd followed through on her impulse of asking Evelyn Napier to attend the game with her, and he had immediately agreed. She tended to think of Evelyn as more of a casual afterthought, not someone she'd really ever date - after all, she only knew him through a computer screen. But she had wanted to show her father and her granny that she could marry whomever she wanted. It didn't just have to be Matthew. There had to be a legal way around her grandfather's will, or _at least _another way she could run Downton without marrying someone she'd only just met…

So Evelyn would be a piece in her scheme, the living and breathing reminder to Robert and Violet that she was a full-fledged adult who could damn well do whatever she pleased. It sounded cold even to Mary when she really thought her plan over, but her own mother and grandmother were starting to give up on their quest for her to win Downton and the family fortune. This could be one of her final chances to convince them to keep trying.

Mary decided to inform her mother first, figuring that she would be the most understanding about boys. She walked over to her parents' residence early one Saturday morning to ensure she could catch her alone before her mother became caught up in her endless whirlwind of social events.

"It's nice having some time alone with you, Mary," Cora told her daughter, moving closer to her on the sofa and placing an arm around her. "I feel like I never get to see my oldest daughter anymore."

Mary smiled back at her mother. "I'm usually just so busy, Mama."

"The rugby game will be a nice breather for you, then. Did any of your professors offer you extra credit?" Cora asked lightheartedly.

"Usually they only offer the underclassmen extra credit. My professors said we have to actually work for extra credit, since we're supposed to be more mature and all that." Mary hesitated, only slightly nervous about asking her mother if she could bring Evelyn along. She knew Cora would only be briefly frustrated that she wouldn't consider pursuing Matthew yet.

"About the rugby game…Mama, I invited a boy from Oxford to come with me," she confessed.

"Oh?" To Mary's relief, Cora seemed both surprised and amused rather than angry about the Matthew situation. "A boy from the rival school? Your classmates will think that's fodder for a small-scale scandal!"

The mother-daughter pair chuckled together, and Mary felt the most lighthearted she had since the terrorist attacks. It was truly so wonderful to have Cora to herself for once rather than having to share her with her family and the rest of the university.

"And how did you say you met this boy?" Cora questioned.

"I met him on Match. It's a dating website," Mary informed her.

"A dating website? Darling, are you sure that's safe?" Cora asked, true to her role as the typical concerned mother. The words lying unspoken between her and Mary were _why couldn't she just date the boy she already knew, the boy that could secure her entire future._

Mary lifted her brows in irritation at this. "If you use it carefully, then yes. I promise I know enough about him, Mama! His name is Evelyn Napier. He looks reasonably attractive in his picture on the site. He's a poly-sci major. As I mentioned, he goes to Oxford. And apparently, he likes rugby enough to want to go to the game with me."

"You said his last name was Napier? I knew his mother in college. We lost touch a while back, but we were in the same dorm once upon a time. She would be so happy to know you were going out with her son!" Cora visibly relaxed at the revelation that her daughter's beau wouldn't be so unknown, after all.

"Actually, Evelyn said his mother died a few years ago," Mary corrected her mother.

Cora frowned at the sad bit of news, but then straightened up brightly, her eyes brimming with the excitement of a new idea. "Ask him to stay the night at the house with us, Mary! It's a long enough drive from here to Oxford, and I'm sure he'd appreciate the chance to let loose and not have to worry about driving."

Mary nodded in agreement. "Should I message him and say you knew his dead mum, too?"

"I'm sure you of all people know just what to say to a boy, darling," Cora said dryly.

—

Anna was one of the first people at the Upstairs Café to clock in that morning. She tied on her white apron and then prepared to leave to start her job, but then she noticed something odd.

"Gwen? What are you hiding?" she asked the redhead, who was surreptitiously trying to return something to the cupboard.

"I told you already - nothing!" Gwen protested vehemently.

Anna was immediately skeptical. "Is it actually a secret lover?"

"Anna, it's none of your business! Can't you just leave it alone, please?" Gwen begged angrily.

"No, I can't! I just want to make sure you're all right. I can help you with whatever it is if you just tell me!"

Gwen sighed in defeat, and then extracted her secret from the cupboard. Cheeks burning red with the shame of getting caught, she showed the book to Anna.

"_How to ACE Your A-Levels," _Anna read the book's title out loud. Suddenly, everything made sense to her. The numerous sheets of lined paper, Gwen's constant fatigue, her sudden interest in maths…

"Gwen, you're going back to school!" she realized.

Gwen grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. I've been reviewing concepts I learned last year in 6th form that could help me do well enough on my A-level exams to qualify for a scholarship to university. I'm taking three exams - maths, law, and English language. So far I've done well on the practice exams!"

"That's wonderful!" Anna meant every bit of those two words. She truly was so proud Gwen would be lifting herself from her background, that she wouldn't be stuck waiting on haughty clients forever and working side-by-side with the likes of Thomas. "What will your parents say?"

"I can't tell them till I've got a scholarship, Anna! Dad will think I'm a fool to leave a good job and Mum will say I'm getting above myself, but I don't believe that. I've always wanted to go to university, to study to become a paralegal - I just want to try, you know? But I'd prefer if we kept this between us for now just in case," Gwen explained.

O'Brien stuck her crooked nose in the room, and Gwen hurriedly stuffed the thick book behind her back.

"Mrs. Crawley wants breakfast delivered to their house. Just some ready-made stuff - a croissant or two, some fruit," she ordered the two waitresses.

"We'll come in a minute," Anna told her.

O'Brien regarded her and Gwen with suspicion. "They're waiting now, stupid."

"We just have to change our aprons. Isn't that right, Gwen?" Anna snapped back to O'Brien.

Gwen nodded, terrified, and O'Brien had no choice but to walk away at their somewhat plausible excuse. The girls breathed a collective sigh of relief - Gwen's secret was still safe from nosy people like O'Brien who wished them ill, for now.

—

"What do you mean, you're telling Mary to look at other options besides Matthew? I thought we talked about this, Cora!" Robert was livid at his wife. She had just broken the news to him over an otherwise peaceful family breakfast. Now all of his plans for the university's future could possibly go to waste just because his wife and daughter didn't listen.

"It's not my doing, Robert! I'm just encouraging her to keep her options open! Evelyn's late mother was one of my friends - this is the least I can do!" Cora defended herself.

"Hmm. I'm not sure you're actually helping Mary. I remember meeting Evelyn's father long ago and all he talked about was hunting. What a bore. His son is probably no different, especially if he's an Oxfordian!" Robert pointed out.

"Robert, stop being so pigheaded and listen to your brilliant wife for once," Violet commanded, and Robert promptly obeyed his mother - the only person he really feared - without another word. "Mary won't take Matthew Crawley, so we'd better get her settled before the bloom is quite gone off the rose. The Napier family is quite wealthy - his father heads a top law firm. It's been in their family for _ages, _almost as long as the Crawleys have been at Downton. A boy part of a family like that could be quite beneficial to Mary."

Cora looked intrigued, but Robert was merely exasperated. "You only know all of that because you've already looked his family up on the Internet, in the phone book, and you've called all of your friends to ask if they knew them, Mama. Don't pretend otherwise. Are you afraid someone will think you're American if you speak openly?"

Violet just scoffed at what she perceived to be an insult. "I doubt I'd ever be accused of being something that _dreadful. _Anyway, I don't even know how to use a computer, my boy. I thought you of all people should know that. It's much better just to use an encyclopedia or to write a letter to someone," Violet stated triumphantly, knowing she'd successfully made her point.

"All right, Mama. I have a meeting with Cripps in ten minutes. I'll see you later." Robert exited, and Cora took the opportunity to edge closer to Violet, close enough that she could speak privately with her.

"You don't seem very happy," Cora observed.

"I'm pleased. It's not brilliant, but I'm pleased," Violet admitted grudgingly.

"So…?" Cora prompted.

"I don't want Robert to use a marriage as an excuse to stop fighting for Mary's inheritance, which she rightfully deserves!" Violet declared.

"It won't make any difference. I don't think he has the slightest intention of fighting as it is. The price of saving Downton is to accept Matthew Crawley as his heir," Cora sighed. Deep down, even she knew it was true. And she also knew her husband must really think there were no other ways for Mary to be involved in Downton's future at all or he would not push so hard for his favorite daughter to marry someone she didn't want to.

But Violet wasn't as ready to surrender. "But what about you?" she asked Cora.

"I don't dislike Matthew. In fact, I rather admire him. He's clearly a kind, hard-working young man!"

"Well, that may be, but is that sufficient reason to give him and his nasty communist of a mother the money your family worked so hard for?" Violet prodded.

"Of course not!" Cora protested. "You know I don't think it is!"

Violet grinned triumphantly at hearing what she desired to hear from her daughter-in-law's lips. "Then there's nothing more to be said. My tea's gotten cold. Why don't you ask your troll-like personal assistant for another cup, and then we'll finish our little _tête-à-tête_."

—

Matthew was going for a run on one of the lush campus trails when he bumped into Edith Crawley.

"Hullo, Edith," he greeted her. He honestly didn't know anything about the president's middle daughter. On the few occasions he had met her, she had seemed quiet, much quieter than Mary, almost to the point of being socially inept. He also noticed - albeit guiltily - that she was quite nondescript in terms of her physical appearance compared to her two sisters. Matthew immediately felt bad for her and resolved to make more of an effort to get to know her.

Edith grinned awkwardly up at him. "Cousin Matthew! What are you doing here?"

"Running. It helps me clear my head when I'm stressed and helps me to stay this fit," he joked, gesturing down at his toned body.

Edith let out a small, timid chuckle. "You're stressed? Whatever about?", she asked, clearly concerned.

"Not much," he lied, not wanting to admit to his distant cousin that he was agitated by Mary's evident disinterest in him. That, coupled with his rigorous academic schedule, had led to his feeling incredibly anxious lately. And the extreme physical difficulty of running actually did pleasantly distract him from his now-complicated life, even if just temporarily.

"Are you going to the rugby game?" he asked her politely, steering the conversation into clear, mundane territory rather than the swirling, murky territory of his emotions.

"Yes! Our family has special seats that you're welcome to sit in if you'd like." Matthew thought Edith seemed eager for him to come, for some strange reason.

"I'd like that," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. Come to think of it, his mother would probably love to join too rather than sitting with all of the other professors in their cramped seats where they discussed their research rather than focusing on the game. _Mary would almost certainly be there too_…He brushed that thought aside. She had been quite clear that she thought of him in a platonic way and nothing more. And at the last dinner he had seen her at, she had mentioned that she was planning on bringing some other boy to the game with her.

But Edith seemed nice enough. Anyway, it was easier - and kinder - for Matthew to take pity on the poor girl. He had never had siblings, but it couldn't be easy to be the middle child _and _Mary Crawley's younger sister.

Edith's face broke into a large grin, and Matthew smiled at her sudden happiness. He had never seen her truly smile before, and he felt rather satisfied at having been the catalyst for her to do so. But he felt somewhat guilty for only accepting her because he pitied her...

"See you then!" she called excitedly, and they parted ways.

—

Gwen knew something was off from the moment she stepped into the backroom at the café.

She and Anna had just finished clearing tables, and had come back to take a well-deserved break. But when they arrived there, the entire restaurant staff along with Sarah O'Brien and John Bates were gathered around, staring and pointing at an object on a table.

Gwen realized with a start that the object they were gawking at was her A-levels book, the same book that could provide her a path to a real future. And even worse, she noticed that Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were both there. Having both deans in the same place could never be good…

_So they had discovered her secret. She was a fool not to know it would only be a matter of time before they did. _Her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach and she was rendered speechless for a moment as she desperately tried to determine what to do next.

"What's that doing here?" she asked nervously, finally finding her voice.

"Ah, Gwen. Come in," Mrs. Hughes beckoned for Gwen to come closer, and she quickly obeyed.

"Why is that out here? Who's been rummaging through the cupboards? They had no right to invade my privacy!" she demanded hysterically, too disoriented to keep her words under control.

"See here! In the first place, none of the rooms in this house belong to you. And in the second, I am in charge of not only the students' discipline but also that of workers like you and that gives me every right," Mr. Carson corrected her firmly, and Mrs. Hughes nodded her tacit agreement.

Anna turned to O'Brien angrily. "This was you, wasn't it?" she accused, infuriated on her friend's behalf. _Of course _O'Brien would've poked her nosy mind into places it didn't belong after she'd seen them cover up the book that day. Sometimes, Anna wondered why O'Brien and Thomas took so much glee in causing others' unhappiness. _They must really be so miserable_, she thought.

O'Brien smirked, visibly self-satisfied with Gwen's distress. "You and the ginger were obviously trying to hide it, so I knew there was something wrong about it."

Anna had never wanted to slap a person in her life as much as she wanted to slap Sarah O'Brien straight across the face right then. "She wants to keep it private, not secret. There's a difference!" she justified, fiercely attempting to help her friend.

"Amen to that," Mr. Bates agreed, and Anna flashed a grateful smile at him.

"That's all well and good, but maybe Gwen could speak for herself," Mrs. Hughes suggested sternly, crossing her arms across her chest and staring expectantly at Gwen.

"I've done nothing to be ashamed of! I only bought a book to review for the A-levels. I plan on taking them at the end of the spring semester. I wasn't aware that was illegal!" Gwen declared passionately, raising herself up to her full height in an attempt to seem far more confident than she felt. Inside, she was just a moment away from bursting into tears, tears of frustration and hopelessness and sadness.

"Why shouldn't she have a study guide? It's her decision!" William whispered to Thomas.

"Shut up, wittle Willy," Thomas admonished mockingly.

"Will you tell us why, preferably without any more cheek?" Mrs. Hughes would not budge. Gwen noted with awe that, in that moment, the normally motherly dean of admissions was every bit as intimidating as Mr. Carson, the harshest disciplinary dean ever to work at Downton.

Gwen hesitated, trembling in fear. She knew they probably had guessed as to why. All she had to do was admit it - but yet it was so hard to confess to the colleagues she strictly had only professional relationships with her hopes, her plans, her dreams for the future.

"Because I want to quit my job here. I want to go to university and study to be a paralegal."

The gasps from around the room were very audible. Gwen could tell they were all looking askance at her for wanting to get a real education - after all, none of the other members of the cafè staff had except for Anna, who may have come from a working-class family but was still far less poor than the rest of them. Gwen covered her mouth in embarrassment, wanting nothing more at that moment than to flee to her small room and cuddle up under her duvet and cry. She looked in Anna's direction for support, and her friend gave her a nervous smile.

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes appeared absolutely floored to the point of being speechless. Mr. Carson recovered from his shock first. "You…you want to leave Downton?" He said it almost like an accusation. The disapproval and shock palpable in his deep voice.

Gwen nodded timidly, her red ponytail bouncing with the motion.

"What's wrong with working here, with not getting a college diploma?" O'Brien demanded to know rather confrontationally.

"Oh, nothing's wrong with it!" Gwen clarified quickly, not wanting her co-workers to misunderstand her or to think she was insulting their choice to stay at Downton. "There's nothing wrong with being a contractor either, but it's not what _I _want to do!"

"Remember that there are plenty of young girls around your age who will be glad of a working position at this prestigious university," Carson boomed. "At least think about that before you completely upend your life."

"I know. And when I hand in my notice, I shall be happy to think one of them will be taking my place." Gwen was resolved to remain unwavering on her position. She couldn't abandon her lifelong dream just because of other's disapproval - what kind of person would she be if she did? And what did it matter, anyway, if they thought she was just another foolish girl with stars in her eyes? Maybe she was - but she would never know if she didn't try.

"What makes you think we'll wait till then to replace you?" Miss O'Brien asked tauntingly, tossing another smug smirk in Thomas's direction.

God, Gwen wouldn't miss the pair of them if - _no, when_ \- she left.

"Are you hiring and sacking now, Miss O'Brien? I thought that lay with Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes," Anna pointed out in a wild effort to get the busybody to stand down.

And to Gwen's surprise, O'Brien finally did. She muttered one last "hmph!" and then glanced at the ground.

"Enough of this. I'm going to go work on some files and we'll have no more talk of this tonight." Carson's icy tone left no room for further discussion of the subject at hand. He handed Gwen her book and she gave him a grateful nod.

"Be careful, Gwen," he said softly - almost considerately - to her. "I wish I was sure you know what you're doing."

Doubt pricked like a needle at Gwen's heart again - after all, Mr. Carson came from a background far worse than hers and had worked his way to college through a series of jobs much the way that she had. Of everyone, he understood her decision the most and her he still had just warned her to act cautiously. But she merely thanked the dean and assured him she did, in fact, know what she was doing.

"Daisy! What's happened to you? I said you could go for a drink of water, not a trip up the Nile!" Mrs. Patmore screeched, coming in from the kitchen and menacingly wielding a spatula. Daisy came darting over, mumbling a string of apologies to her boss.

Gwen giggled in spite of herself. At least there was one person who couldn't care less about her private affairs.

—

"You invited Matthew to sit in our box?" Mary asked Edith, not quite believing her sister's statement. "And he said _yes_?"

Edith nodded smugly in clarification. "You didn't want him, so I figured I'd take him. By the way, thanks for at least giving me a chance with him, the chance you never let me have with dear Patrick." She stopped abruptly as she noticed Mary's frown. "What, are you surprised he said yes to me?", she gloated.

That was the most shocking part to Mary, that Matthew had actually accepted Edith's invitation. Edith - in her totally unbiased opinion - was horribly prudish and awkward to the point where she sucked the life out of whatever room she was in. Not to mention that Mary had caught her playing with dolls on several recent occasions...She wondered if Matthew actually was attracted to Edith, or if he was simply being his annoyingly moral self.

Mary had consciously made a decision and had passed over Matthew in favor of some bigger fish in the sea, like Evelyn. She fully realized it, too. Then why, oh why, was she feeling so inexplicably jealous right now?

"You're being so obvious, Edith - Matthew will know you're making a play for him," she said disparagingly, trying not to her jealousy leak through in her words. Edith's smug expression crumbled in an instant, and Mary felt a strong satisfaction at that. Deep down, guilt prickled at her conscience - the telltale signs that told her she was a horrible older sister to Edith and an equally inadequate role model for Sybil. Her father would be so disappointed - but yet Edith was so damn irritating sometimes.

"That's rich, coming from you," Edith snipped back, and Mary briefly puzzled over what _that _was supposed to mean. Maybe she had been too obvious by inviting Evelyn to the game, by flirting with Philip Crowborough that she was trying to find a husband who could supply her with the same prestige and wealth that being Matthew's bride would bring...After all, Violet had always told her that the worst thing a true lady could be (besides unattractive and unkempt) was too forward.

"I'm just busy living my life the way I want to, unlike you," she finally retorted, reclining back in her dorm's swivel chair. "Now was telling me the Matthew news the only reason you trekked all the way over to my dorm?"

"Er...basically," Edith admitted.

Mary lifted her eyes to the heavens. "You're endlessly pathetic. Now get out, or I'll call security to escort you out."

Edith hurriedly exited, and Mary let out her breath. She opened up her computer, deciding to sign into her Match account to see if Evelyn had left her any more messages.

Sure enough, he had. His message was as formal and as sweet as ever.

**Hey! I'm so excited to meet you for real! I was wondering if I could bring the Turkish transfer student I'm hosting? He just arrived at the start of the semester and I thought nothing is a better example of British culture than rugby to show him. :-) Sorry for the last minute notice, I've been swamped with school this past week!**

A Turkish transfer student..._why not,_ Mary thought. It would certainly bolster Downton's reputation as an inclusive school if he was photographed with the Crawleys in their box. Robert would be so happy with that. And surely he wouldn't interrupt her date with Evelyn so much if there were members of her family around for him to chat with.

She began typing her response, plucking the computer keys one by one.

**I'm excited to meet u IRL 2! Of course u can bring ur friend! He can sit with us in our special seats. I'm sure my mum will be ok with it. :)**

—

The rusty bell above the door tinkled as John Bates hesitantly hobbled into the prosthetics store.

He stopped at the front desk, where a surly-looking clerk with a graying mustache was crafting some sort of a prosthetic arm. John watched in wonder for a few seconds until the clerk finally acknowledged him.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding irritated at being disturbed.

"I saw an advertisement in the papers for a prosthetic leg attachment from the knee down," John answered hesitantly. As he spoke, John made a cursory glance of the room, making sure that no one he knew was there. For whatever reason, he felt embarrassed at trying to find aid for his lame leg. But he also was sick of being the butt of Thomas and O'Brien's mean-spirited jokes and of appearing like a failure to Robert, his long-time friend. Above all, just wanted to make sure everyone knew he had gotten his coveted job as Robert's assistant based on merit rather than his friendship with him.

"So?" the man prompted.

"So how can it help me?" John asked.

"You'll be able to walk much more easily. It'll be as close to having your real leg back as you could possibly get," the clerk responded.

"Does it work?"

"Well, as I make it and advertise it, do you really think I'd say no?" the clerk asked, his voice sounding exasperated with John's questions.

The man's answer wasn't exactly comforting to John. "Very well, then…can I see one?"

The clerk sighed and fumbled under the counter, eventually holding up a large prosthetic calf. John marveled at it - it really did have the same shape as a human calf. It looked as if it could solve all of his problems.

"Here's the manual on how to attach it," the clerk told him, flicking a small leaflet toward John.

"All right. How much?" John asked, deciding to at least try the prosthetic leg. He never had in the past because they had always been too costly, but now - thanks to Robert providing a job for him - he finally had enough money to purchase one. So even when the clerk named a sky-high price, John didn't flinch and just paid him.

—

_Friday night_

"Gwen? Open the door!"

Gwen quickly obeyed, and Anna entered the café's kitchen with her hands full of dishes.

"Thanks so much. Ugh, those customers were so cheap. I put up with their demands for the past hour, and they didn't even tip me!" she complained as she emptied the dishes into the sink. Gwen nodded sympathetically, not really paying attention.

"Anyway, I'm helping Mary get ready for the game tomorrow. I can't believe she's got a date, one from Oxford at that! God, some people have all the luck!" Anna chattered. She turned around as she finished the dishes and then noticed Gwen. She was weeping silently in the corner, big tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Gwen? What's the matter?" Anna asked, resting her hand on her friend's thin shoulder.

But Gwen was too choked up from crying to answer, and her cries only intensified in pitch. Anna gently guided her to a chair. Gwen gratefully sat down, and placed her head between her hands on the table in defeat.

John, on his way to place an order for the Crawley's dinner with Mrs. Patmore, had heard Gwen's cries and went to investigate. "What's happened?" he asked the two waitresses.

Gwen finally was able to speak up. "Oh, I'm just being silly. It's nothing," she lied, embarrassed. She quickly changed the subject, gesturing at the list in John's hands. "Mrs. Patmore is out for the next half hour. You should come back later."

"I have time," John told her, noticing her futile effort to cast the attention away from herself. "Now, what's wrong?"

"Well, I suppose I've just realized that it's not going to happen," Gwen confessed reluctantly.

"What isn't?" John asked, confused.

"None of it! I'm not going to pass my A-levels. I'm not going to go to university. I'm never going to stop waitressing. In fact, I'll never leave Downton till I'm too old and gray and washed-up to do anything else!" Gwen sobbed hysterically.

Anna rubbed Gwen's back soothingly. "Hey, what's all this? You were so confident the other night, standing up for yourself against O'Brien and Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes!"

"Oh, but you saw their faces. None of them think I can do it! And they're right!" Gwen wailed.

"But John and I believe in you! And I was able to do it, Gwen!" Anna tried to reassure her friend.

But Anna's effort did not yield results. In fact, it had the opposite effect.

"But my family isn't half as well-off as yours, Anna! I'd need a full scholarship to be able to even consider going…And I'm not as pretty as you, or as smart…Oh, look at me! I'm the daughter of a rural bus driver, I'm lucky to even be a waitress. I was born with nothing and I'll die with nothing!" The self-doubt that had been eating at Gwen for so long was getting to her again. She had tried so hard to keep her studies a secret for this reason. She had figured that if no one knew what she was trying to do, then it wouldn't matter if she failed. But now almost everyone at Downton knew, and she felt the weighty pressure of having to succeed more and more each day.

"Don't talk like that. You can change your life if you want to. Sometimes you have to be hard on yourself, but you can change it completely, I know," John told her, his words bearing a tremendous amount of confidence. He seemed to know personally, and that made Gwen finally stop crying.

"I need to get back to work. Thanks, Anna. Thanks, John." Gwen wiped her face with a Kleenex, squared her shoulders, and returned back to her customers.

John started to walk away, but then suddenly flinched in pain. He closed his eyes from the pain and then paused for a moment. A moment that was long enough for Anna to notice his reaction.

"What's the matter, John?" she asked, concerned.

"Nothing. Not a thing. I'm fine," he fibbed, much like Gwen had lied that nothing was wrong when she was crying.

Anna was no fool. "Let me help you," she told him firmly, reaching out a hand to help him steady himself.

"No, I'm perfectly all right, thank you." Anna pulled her hand away, hurt. John felt bad, but he certainly didn't want to look like a weak cripple in front of _her._

"Are you sure?" Anna asked skeptically, taking a step closer to him. "You're as white as a sheet!"

"Oh, that's just my wonderful complexion inherited from my Irish mother," John joked awkwardly. He noticed the shorter distance between them and quickly moved farther away, guiltily.

Anna was still concerned about him, but decided to let the matter rest for the time being and merely laughed at his joke. After all, she had certainly uncovered enough secrets for one week.

—

_Saturday morning_

"I can't believe your date is late!" Sybil remarked to Mary on the morning of the rugby game as the Crawley sisters congregated on the driveway of their mansion to await their guests.

"Maybe he won't come!" Edith sounded positively gleeful at the prospect, and Mary glared at her.

"I'm sure Evelyn is just running late. He had at least a two-hour drive from Oxford," she reassured herself.

As if on cue, a car pulled up at that very moment into the driveway of the Crawley's mansion. A man stepped out of the driver's seat and made his way over to Mary.

"Hello. I'm Evelyn," he introduced himself. Mary did a quick mental appraisal of him. He was definitely good-looking with his light brown hair and clear blue eyes. But the way he spoke to her…he sounded so stilted, so formal. This was the kind of man she did not need - she needed someone a bit more carefree, to help her become less uptight. Worst of all, he reminded her too much of Patrick.

_But maybe he is different than how he seems_, she tried to encourage herself. _Maybe he is just nervous or just guarded and shy. Maybe I'm just too quick to judge him. _Anyway, she had selected him online. She had initiated their conversation. So now she had to deal with the results.

"I'm Mary," she greeted him, doing her best to sound cheery. "We were beginning to give up on you!" she joked.

"The traffic was horrendous. Seems like all of Oxford has been transplanted up here to watch the game this weekend," Evelyn said lightly.

Mary giggled obligingly. "And your Turkish companion? Where is he?" she asked politely.

Evelyn gestured to the car. "Kemal's fixing his appearance. He thought the best way to learn international diplomacy would be to chat up some British girls!"

Mary chuckled again. "Ah. I can picture him now. Some silly-looking foreigner with too much gel in his hair and wearing too much cologne who thinks he's the handsomest man to walk the earth besides Brad Pitt."

"Not exactly….well, here he is. You can see for yourself," Evelyn said mysteriously.

Mary spun around to catch a glance at the Turk, her mouth ready to turn up into a smirk at the funny-looking foreigner she had pictured.

But she was shocked to the core at the sight before her eyes.

Kemal Pamuk may have been foreign, but he was the furthest thing from silly-looking she could have possibly imagined. He was exotic-looking, to be sure, with his tan skin and coffee-brown hair. With his chiseled features and swept-back hair, he reminded Mary of the perfect, unblemished Greek statues she'd been studying lately in her Classics class.

No man had ever managed to make Mary Crawley's heart pitter-patter before. But somehow, this foreigner had, and she hadn't even officially met him yet.

"You must be Mary Crawley," Kemal greeted her confidently. _Oh God, his voice, _Mary thought. It was husky and slightly accented. She stole another appreciative glance at him, and was pleasantly surprised to see he was looking at her too.

"You guessed right," she told him, hoping she didn't sound too strange. She was too distracted by his voice to pay attention to her own words.

"You look exactly the same as you do online. No wonder Evelyn was so insistent on meeting you in person!" Kemal remarked, and Mary's heart did another little pirouette at his compliment.

"As for me…well, I'm sorry to be so disheveled. We left Oxford at 6 am and we've been in the car for two and a half hours," he apologized.

Mary giggled, twirling a stray strand of her curled ponytail around her index finger. "Oh no, don't apologize. You don't look disheveled to me!" she assured him, perhaps a beat too quickly.

Edith and Sybil were also gazing up at Kemal with awe, their pale cheeks flushed pink. Evelyn stood awkwardly to the side, forgotten as all of them watched the exchange between Mary and the Turk.

"We should probably meet Mama and Papa at the game before there is too much of a crowd," Edith said finally, interrupting the strange near-daze they all seemed to be in.

Mary broke eye contact with Kemal and looked down in embarrassment. "Leave it to you to be the practical one," she muttered under her breath, and then she glued herself to Kemal's side as they walked to the rugby pitch.

—

The president's box was a collection of ten seats in the front two rows of seats at the rugby pitch. A clear tent-like roof sheltered the seats from the elements so that the president and his guests could watch the game in comfort regardless of the weather conditions. A door barricaded any outsiders from disturbing the president and his family. Mr. Carson had insisted on personally installing it after Jimmy Kent had snuck in there the previous year on a dare and drunkenly climbed up onto the railing in front and had started to do a strip-tease in front of the entire student body. Needless to say, he'd been scrubbing bedpans for a while after _that _particular occurrence.

Mary crossed to the front of the box, motioning for Evelyn and Kemal to come along with her.

"Hello, Papa." She kissed Robert's cheek, playing the part of the loving daughter. "This is Evelyn Napier. That's Kemal Pamuk." She gestured at the men in turn, a hint of a blush coloring in her cheeks when she motioned to Kemal.

"Ahh. I've heard so much about you, Evelyn. I'm President Robert Crawley. Lovely to meet you both," Robert said politely, looking his guests up and down. "Feel free to help yourselves to a beer. Our cousin Matthew is also sitting with us today, so I wanted to make sure I had enough alcohol to sustain all you young people throughout the game," he joked. "I have my own secret stash, of course!"

Cora turned to her guests and smiled welcomingly, ever the gracious host. "I'm Mrs. Crawley, but call me Cora. I'll never understand all your English formalities," she teased lightheartedly.

"Thank you for having us, President Crawley and Cora," Evelyn told them sincerely.

"Oh, it's my pleasure, dear. I knew your mother, you know…"

Cora and Evelyn began making polite small talk about his dead mother. Matthew walked in with Isobel, both of them clad in gold-and-blue Downton paraphernalia.

Robert beckoned for them to come in. "Matthew! Isobel! Come in!" he greeted them warmly.

He turned to Evelyn and Kemal. "This is Matthew Crawley, our cousin -"

"- _distant _cousin," Mary corrected somewhat coldly. She immediately cursed herself for doing so - why on earth had she, anyway? Her guests didn't need to know all of the particulars of her family, and it probably just made Matthew feel even more like an outsider. And she told herself it _definitely _wasn't because she wanted to make flirting with him seem like a normal, legal thing to do…

"- yes, and this is Isobel, his mother. She teaches here," Robert continued. Matthew good-naturedly shook hands with both Evelyn and Kemal.

Sybil made her way over to Mary. "Oh Mary, he looks so handsome!" she gushed excitedly.

"Who, Matthew?" Mary asked.

"No - well, him too. I mean Kemal though, silly," Sybil clarified.

Mary sighed in agreement. "He's gorgeous. So exotic, such a gentleman…but he doesn't even look Turkish at all!"

"Well, he doesn't look like any Englishman I've ever met," a voice behind her commented. "They're all much paler."

Mary spun around. "Anna!" she threw her arms excitedly around her friend. "What are you doing here?"

Anna shrugged. "Just thought I'd drop by for a minute on my way to work. I knew your dad wouldn't mind. He knows me enough by now, I think."

"I'll see you tonight? Maybe we can stop at a post-game party later?" Mary suggested. "That is, if you're not too tired from selling food to hungry rugby fanatics!"

"I can't, I'm visiting my parents and I'll be gone tonight! But save the cute foreigner for me!" Anna joked, waving at Mary as she left. In some ways, Anna regretted not being able to stay and watch the game like any other college student - but she also knew how badly she needed this waitressing job to sustain herself through it. And she also knew how lucky she was to have garnered this rare opportunity to improve herself by getting an education.

—

Edith planted herself directly next to Matthew as the game started. He remained as polite as ever and asked her a few questions about the game, which she cheerily answered.

"I wish we could talk a little more about you, Matthew. I want to get to know you better."

Matthew laughed kindly, his mind far from Edith, far from the game. He kept looking over his shoulder at Mary and the two men vying for her attention.

Edith was only slightly deterred when Matthew didn't say anything. "What was growing up in Manchester like?" she pressed. She was not really sure what to say to a man - even if he was only her cousin. She was simply not used to being the one to direct the conversation, and she found that she didn't like it, not one bit. It made her feel so awkward, and for the millionth time, she wished she could be as graceful and engaging as Mary was.

"Do you know who won the Downton-Oxford match last year?" Matthew asked, and she wondered if he had even been paying attention to her.

"Oxford, I'm afraid." she responded, gradually growing more dejected at his evident disinterest in her. _What am I doing wrong? _she wondered desperately.

"Ah, how disappointing for your father. What was the score?"

"5-1 Oxford."

"Makes sense why Downton is out for blood this year. I wonder how Mary's date is going," he said, almost to himself. He felt bad as soon as the words were out of his mouth and immediately wished he could take them back as he watched the amiable expression on Edith's face slip into something else entirely.

"All right, I'm sure," she answered dully, and it took everything she had not to burst into tears at that instant. _Of course _he had been thinking of Mary. Almost every man who encountered the Crawley sisters would fall over themselves trying to woo Mary and they would barely spare Edith a second glance. As soon as Sybil grew up a little more, it would be even worse - men would lose themselves in her big blue eyes and gaze at her the way Edith so desperately desired to be gazed at.

The worst part was that Mary had cruelly cast Matthew aside, had decided he wasn't good enough for her and yet he still was dreaming only of her. He most likely had never even thought of Edith in a manner that approached anything even close to romantic. Her resentment of Mary - so barely concealed, so tightly bottled up - threatened to bubble over at that moment and overwhelm her. She wanted to scream, she wanted to kick the metal bleachers, she wanted to slap Mary in front of the entire school and Matthew for good measure too.

But then she looked at Matthew - Matthew, who had never been anything but kind to her - and realized she couldn't take out her jealousy of her horrible older sister on him.

This time, she would finally give Mary a taste of her own medicine.

—

"I hope you've enjoyed the day so far," Mary told Kemal sincerely during the break between matches.

"Oh, much more than I expected to," he told her, glancing meaningfully up at her. Her heart began to beat a little faster again, and she returned his intense gaze.

The distance between them became close, too close. Mary sat up regretfully as she remembered Evelyn. He _was _her date, after all, even if she barely knew him.

"Where's Evelyn?" she asked, her question reminding them both of his presence.

"Off greeting a classmate from Oxford. They're both so disappointed that Downton is still leading by two."

"About time! We've lost to Oxford every single year I've been studying here. We're already second to them in academics, so the least we can do is catch up in athletics," Mary joked.

Kemal chuckled warmly. "Will you go find Evelyn?" he asked, sounding disappointed at the prospect.

"I have no use for yet another boring Oxfordian," she declared honestly. Her cheeks reddened a touch in guilt at the admission, and she averted Kemal's eyes. He would think her terribly cruel for insulting Evelyn, his gracious host, in such a manner.

But to Mary's relieved shock, he just laughed. "In that case, you could come with me. I'm going to buy some fish and chips."

"Oh, I shouldn't eat that," Mary said quickly.

Kemal gave her a puzzled glance. "And why on earth not?"

"The calories…" she mumbled, her voice trailing off as she realized how ridiculous, how _boring _that sounded. But counting calories had always been a habit for Mary, a method of having some level of control over her life…

"Oh, you English with your odd diets. In Turkey, we eat all kinds of fattening food all the time - baklava, döner - and we don't care if we have too many calories. It's all about living a little, no?" he explained.

Mary still wasn't sure. After all, she wasn't used to allowing herself to make her own decisions, to _live a little._

Kemal dropped his voice conspiratorially. "And besides, you're too lovely to worry about your calories," he whispered, causing her stomach to do a series of happy twists.

"All right," she agreed, and allowed herself to be pulled by him toward the snack vendors. She felt carefree and happy and a bit rebellious all at once with Kemal, and she marveled at how quickly she would drop her uptightness for him.

—

Downton's rugby team was never quite able to break through the stone wall of Oxford's defense, so they promptly lost for the second year in a row to Oxford.

This did not dampen any of the Crawley's spirits too horribly, and dinner that night at the Upstairs Café was as lively as ever.

Gwen served them their first course - burgers, a more low-key dinner option Cora had requested that drove Mrs. Patmore to red-faced fit at the thought of making a casual dish at her fancy restaurant.

As Gwen retreated back to the kitchen, Robert glanced at her in consideration and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "That's the one Carson tells me wants to be a student here."

His words were met with mixed reactions around the table. Violet was equal parts puzzled and horrified. "I don't understand. Why would she want to be a student here?"

"Because she wants to create a different life for herself, which I personally think is admirable," Matthew informed Violet.

"But why? I should far prefer to be a waitress in a fancy restaurant with a good salary and tips on the side than study from dawn till dusk just to earn a piece of paper!_ I _never attended college - just finishing school, and _I_ was just fine. Don't you agree, Carson?" Violet's face contorting up into wrinkled lines of confusion.

"Of course, madam," Carson replied emphatically, thinking of how much he had struggled to get to and then through college. Of course, he was happy he had earned his degree now….but Gwen would be in for a real struggle, and she was so much younger and more of a naïve idealist than he had ever been. He couldn't help but wonder how she would fare when her dreams were crushed.

Mary, who was sitting between Evelyn and Kemal, was merely exasperated at the discussion. "Why are we talking about this? Why does it matter?" she huffed, wishing they would talk about something more interesting, a subject where she could have another chance to speak with Kemal…

Cora sighed at Mary's childish comment. "Because it matters that the people who work at Downton are content. If they're content, they'll work harder - which benefits our entire family, including you."

"Of course it does! We should be helping Gwen if that's what she wants!" Sybil said, her eyes shining with the glint of a new idea.

Isobel smiled proudly at Sybil. "I agree. Surely we must all encourage those less fortunate to improve their lot where they can so they can have the same opportunities we do."

Violet rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, so you'd have us donate all of our hard-earned money to them, then? If that's what you want, we can all live in teepees together like the Indians do, pool all of our resources, and live happily ever after!"

It was Isobel's turn to roll her eyes. "I only meant - "

Violet smoothly cut her off. "Anyway, we shouldn't help _this girl_ improve her lot if it's not in her best interests."

"How would it not be in her best interests?" Isobel shot back. "And anyway, _Gwen_ would certainly be a better judge of that than we are."

Mary attempted to diffuse the budding argument between her grandmother and her cousin by asking the person she'd been wanting to speak to all night. "What do you say, Kemal? Should our waitress be kept enslaved here forever or forced out into the dreary world of academia?" she asked, her tone taking on a dry humor.

Kemal shook his head. "One thing I'll never understand is why are you English so curious about other people's lives. I think it's simple: if she wishes to leave, and the law permits it, then let her go."

Isobel smirked in satisfaction, happy she had an ally.

But Violet, of course, could never simply concede an argument. "This girl will be thrust into a world she's not prepared for in the slightest. For heaven's sakes, it sounds like she's just taking her exams and won't even finish her last years of secondary school. She won't know how to handle a university's course load or to interact with classmates who go on holiday in Italy rather than a farm! So perhaps the law should not permit it, for the common good!"

"The common good?" Isobel scoffed, incredulous. "So, you yearn for the days of serfdom. You don't want Gwen to exchange her place in the world for one more like yours!"

Matthew tried to catch Mary's eye as he normally did during his mother and Violet's debates so they could share a knowing, laughter-filled look, but she was too busy fawning over Kemal. He quickly glanced down at his barely-touched plate, hoping no one else had noticed his attempt to engage with her.

"I hanker for a simpler world. Is that a crime?" Violet challenged.

This time, it was Kemal who stalled their battle of wills. "I also dream of a simpler world, Mrs. Crawley - as long as we can keep our airplanes and our tellies."

The entire table laughed - even Isobel and Violet, their quarrel temporarily forgotten - and Mary turned away from Evelyn toward Kemal.

"I wish I shared your enthusiasm. I'm terrified of airplanes!" she admitted lightheartedly.

Kemal chuckled, astonished. "Really? They make our lives so much easier, though!"

"I know they do, but I still find myself gripping the armrests for dear life every time the plane starts to take off…and especially now, after the terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers, I just can't see myself flying anytime soon." Mary thought of Patrick again, how he must have felt in his last panicked moments as the burning Towers fell and fell closer to the ground. Then she began imagining what it must've been like for the passengers on the planes that crashed into the towers and she began to shake a little bit.

Kemal took her hand above the table in a gesture meant to comfort her. "That's completely understandable, Mary. I think a lot of people probably feel like that right now."

Mary smiled faintly up at him. _He was so handsome, so kind to her, so mature…_

Kemal continued the more lighthearted aspect of their conversation. "Next time you feel comfortable hopping on a plane again, you should come to Istanbul!" he suggested.

"Oh!" Mary exclaimed excitedly. "But wouldn't the airplane journey be long and painful?"

"Sometimes we must endure a little pain in order to achieve satisfaction." He was gazing intently at her now with his warm brown eyes and she wondered what he really meant for a split second before she merely looked back at him.

Cora seemed to notice how awkward and excluded Evelyn felt by his friend and his date, so she fixed her attention on him. "How was your day so far, Evelyn?" she asked kindly.

"Splendid! Oxford did quite well today!" he exclaimed halfheartedly, his eyes darting back to Mary and Kemal.

"They did indeed, sadly," Robert remarked jovially, his eyes also drawn to his daughter and the handsome Turk. He wondered to make of their relationship - surely she knew it couldn't last? He lived a world away, in a culture more Middle-Eastern than European…and she was an English rose, his sheltered and spoiled daughter. _Her rosebud would wither if she moved away to the arid heat of Istanbul_, he reflected.

"And you, Kemal? How was your day?" Cora asked.

"I can hardly remember a better one, Mrs. Crawley!" he declared, his eyes settling meaningfully on Mary as he winked at her.

Mary squirmed a little, suddenly blushing and uncomfortable at Kemal's blatant flirtations toward her. It was one thing when it was just the two of them speaking intimately, but quite another in front of her parents and grandmother and sisters and _Matthew_, who was sighing almost pitifully, his fist clenched around his glass of wine in defeat.

—

After dinner, the Crawleys and their guests shared dessert back at their home. They all split off into groups of three or four and talked among each other.

Robert, Violet, and Cora sat together on the settee, whispering.

"Mary has more suitors tonight than Prince William does," Robert observed dryly.

"Good heavens, you're right. I do hope she'll judge them sensibly," Violet said, clutching the arm of the settee as if she was worried about some kind of scandal Mary would cause.

"With all due respect, Violet, no one is _sensible_ at Mary's age. I think she's so mature that we sometimes overlook the fact that she's only twenty-one - barely old enough to drink alcohol in the States. She really shouldn't have to be sensible right now - this is about the last time in her life that can really live without fear of consequences. She'll have plenty of time for being sensible when she's older," Cora pointed out.

"You Americans have the most peculiar ideas about parenting," Violet muttered under her breath, and Cora sighed, realizing their "alliance" truly didn't extend to _every _area of Violet's treatment of her.

Mary was finishing her ice cream while her three "suitors" flocked around her, all trying to speak to her.

Kemal suddenly got up. "Excuse me, please. I'll be back in a moment."

Matthew took full advantage of his competitor's absence. "Did you have fun going to the game today?" he asked Mary.

"Oh, yes! Although it's so terrible that Oxford won, _again." _she exclaimed.

"Would you ever like to go with me?" Matthew asked tentatively, hoping the blush he felt was not too noticeable. _God, Mary Crawley would be the death of him and his pride._"Or are we friends enough for that?"

"Oh, I think that would be -" Mary started to answer, but stopped abruptly as she caught the eye of the Turk from across the room.

_That damn Turk, _Matthew thought. He would've gladly given anything to know what Mary was about to say.

"The last moments of the game today reminded me of one I saw on the telly," Evelyn said, attempting to make small talk with Mary.

"Oh?" She was not really listening and was only attempting to be gracious and polite.

"Yes, you know when Oxford's loose-head passed -"

"Excuse me." Mary was past all pretenses of politeness now. Kemal had tantalizingly beckoned her into coming to join him, and she jumped at the chance, leaving her cousin and her date all alone.

Matthew and Evelyn were both taken aback, a little embarrassed, a little hurt, and a little furious.

"It seems as if we must brush up on our powers of fascination," Matthew joked, sarcasm edging its way into his otherwise teasing words.

"I was a fool to bring him here," Evelyn declared.

"Don't you like him? He is your guest at Oxford, after all."

Evelyn scoffed. "Well, I like him very much, but so does _everyone else_, unfortunately."

Edith noticed Mary's absence and gleefully took her chance to talk to Matthew. She hoped it would make Mary jealous of _her, _for once.

Evelyn saw Edith walking up to them and sighed and left just as rudely as Mary had a few minutes before.

Matthew, on the other hand, smiled politely at his cousin. "I hope you aren't too tired from my antics today," he teased.

"Of course not, I had fun!" she protested, stepping closer to him. "We should do it again!"

Matthew stepped back somewhat uncomfortably. "All right. We should ask Mum to come with us, too - she had a lot of fun today!"

Edith frowned deeply. "Oh yes, that would be just _lovely_," she deadpanned, but Matthew didn't notice. _God, he was so oblivious. _

She remembered her vow from earlier to exact revenge on Mary, but Mary had the upper hand in every way. Edith would just have to bide her time and wait for the right moment to strike. _Like a viper, _she thought, her lips quirking up into a smirk at the thought.

—

Mary walked into the hallway to join Kemal, who was busy admiring the gallery of portraits her parents had displayed on the walls.

"What is it?", she asked.

"Is this picture really a Della Francesca?" he asked, interested.

_He'd brought her here just to ask her about some silly artwork?_ Mary put on her most winning smile anyway and started to answer. "I think so. The second earl brought back several paintings from—"

But she was cut off by a pair of lips. Before she knew it Kemal had firmly grabbed her face, tilted it toward hers, and kissed her as desperately as a dying man would kiss his wife on his deathbed.

Mary was so startled she didn't know how to respond, so she listlessly let him take the lead. He pushed her against the wall, and she gasped - in what? Surprise? Pleasure? She didn't even know. All she could focus on was the intense way that he looked at her, that he kissed her.

And then she remembered her parents were a room away and she pulled away in shame. "Kemal, I can't!" she whispered urgently.

"Let me come to your dorm tonight, please," he begged her, his voice raspy.

Mary was even more startled. Kisses were one thing, but _sex_?

"I can't think what I have said that has led you to believe—" she began, but Kemal interrupted her.

"Please, Mary. I don't know when - _if - _we'll meet again. So let it be tonight. I know you feel something, Mary, and so do I," he urged her.

Kemal tried to kiss her again, but she edged away. "I will not repeat your…_vulgar_ words to my father since I'd hate to see you cast out into the darkness, but can we agree to consider them unsaid? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to talk to my sisters. They'll wonder where I've gone."

As she left, Kemal didn't fume or sigh as any other man would have. Instead, he merely smiled.

—

_Midnight_

Thomas was closing up at the restaurant late that night when he noticed the handsome Turk the Crawleys were so taken with standing there, looking at him expectantly.

"How can I help you, sir?" he asked, his eyes traveling up and down the Turk's well-built body.

The man answered his question with one of his own. "Are you Thomas Barrow?"

"Yes," Thomas stuck out his chest proudly, wondering what this perfect man could possibly want to have to do with him.

"I'm Kemal Pamuk. I was told by a source that you know the campus quite well. I need a little help with the….ah, geography of it," the Turk confessed, his tone confidential as he leaned forward to whisper to him.

"Where do you need to go?" Thomas pressed.

"Mary Crawley's dorm," Pamuk admitted confidently.

Thomas's jaw dropped - he had never pegged Miss Crawley as the promiscuous type, that was for sure. She was a bit rebellious at times, but he and O'Brien had always assumed she was saving her goods for marriage. He smirked gleefully - oh, he couldn't wait for when he told O'Brien! She would be so jealous to know he uncovered a bigger piece of gossip than her.

He wondered how that prude Anna would feel about her roommate doing the deed in their dorm in front of her, but then he realized she would be gone for the night, gone back to visit her parents for a day or two.

"And why would I help you? I don't do things for free, you know," Thomas declared arrogantly, but even he was distracted by Pamuk in much the same way Miss Crawley had been at dinner.

"Because I know some things about you, Thomas. My father is chummy with the father of a certain Philip Crowborough, who told him just how much his son admires a certain waiter here - you."

The Turk was as threatening as he was seductive in that moment, a terrifying combination. Thomas gulped, wondering just how much this man knew about him. _If he told everyone about him and Philip…_Thomas would be ruined, a laughingstock, a target. The country had certainly improved for men like him over the years, but it was still considered somewhat distasteful for him to be attracted to other men.

And yet, some small part of him pitied Mary Crawley, even with the airs she put on and her dark beauty and her happy family and the men falling over themselves for her. Even if she was really no better than a common whore on the streets, she probably didn't understand the mess she had gotten herself into with a man who was willing to resort to underhanded tactics just to sleep with her - a man she'd known for less than a day.

Yet given the choice, Thomas would always choose to save his own skin over someone else's.

"I'll help you, then," Thomas hastily agreed, and Pamuk smiled in satisfaction.

"Good. I thought you might."

—

Mary was far too preoccupied from her earlier encounter with Kemal to sleep. She instead was reading, a secret passion of hers that served as a way to get out of her own head and lose herself in someone else's. It was so comforting to not have to care about her own issues and to immerse herself in another world, even if it was only for a little while.

She looked up from her book - _Tess of the D'Urbervilles, _a timeless classic - for a moment and jumped a foot.

Kemal Pamuk was in her room. In his robe and probably not much else. _How on earth had he found her room? _God, she needed to start locking the door. She had left it open in case Anna came back from her parents' house late.

Mary threw her book to the side and leapt out of bed. "You must be mad, Kemal! You can't be here!" she whispered urgently.

Kemal laughed, his gaze wild and intense. "Oh, I am mad. I'm in the very grip of madness."

Mary didn't like the way he scanned her appearance just then. She was only clad in a thin, almost transparent nightdress and she would've given anything to have more dignity at that moment. "Please leave at once or I'll -" but her threat trailed off weakly. She didn't have many options, exactly. _And a part of her deep-down wanted him to stay._

He chuckled almost patronizingly. "Or you'll what?"

"I'll scream," she decided. It was her best alternative, and it still sounded weak.

"No, you won't. People are sleeping or too drunk on their cheap liquor at their parties - they won't notice," he pointed out, and she realized he was right.

"I'll call my senior warden, then. She always said to call her if I needed anything." Mary was trying to appear confident, controlled, invincible to fear and lust. But it wasn't working.

"Will you really let her find a man in your bedroom? What a story. I'm sure she'll spread it to the gossip blogs here," he said almost triumphantly.

"Do you have any idea what you're asking?" she pleaded desperately, moving back from him. He was too distracting - he made her want to accept his offer. "I'd be ruined if they even knew we'd had this conversation, let alone if they—"

"If they what? Don't worry. I won't get you pregnant, and you can still be a virgin for your husband," Kemal told her confidently. "All of the other girls I've ah, encountered, have told me I was quite careful of making sure."

"Are you proposing to me?" Mary joked weakly. "If you are, you'd better get down on one knee and pull out a ring!"

"God, no. I don't do long distance relationships - too much work and not enough payoff - and I don't think our union would please your family."

"It wouldn't," she agreed, thinking of what Violet would say if she married a foreigner. It was bad enough that Cora was American, but at least she was Christian - but Violet would have a conniption fit if her eldest granddaughter married a Muslim Turk.

"It wouldn't please mine either. They want me to marry a good Muslim girl, not an Anglican girl. But it's not uncommon at all for people our age to sleep with people before they're married. And a little imagination…you wouldn't be the first." " He stopped speaking for a moment and grasped her hands, making her feel almost dizzy with a feeling she couldn't even identify. "-

Mary realized he was right - after all, she had heard some of her classmates vividly describing their sex lives before classes started. But Anna hadn't, and she was positive that Matthew hadn't - the two most moral people she knew.

"It's against my religion to lie with a man before you marry," she said matter-of-factly.

He only laughed dismissively. "Mine too, but who cares? If I go to hell after a life of pleasure, so be it. Rules are meant to be broken. From what Evelyn tells me and from what I know about you, you of all people would understand that."

"You and my parents have something in common," she noted, trying to stall him before she lost her senses completely. She could already feel them slipping away…

"Hmm?" he asked, his lips suddenly on her neck and his words tickling there. She gasped in surprise and suppressed pleasure and didn't stop him as he trailed kisses further down, just above the curve of her breasts.

Mary continued her thought breathlessly. "You believe I'm much more of a rebel than I am. I'm not what you think I am. If it's my mistake, if I've led you on, I'm sorry, but...I'm not. Now, please go!" she exclaimed, but it was fruitless. Kemal was caressing her breasts now, and she was helpless to the movement of his hands, his lips.

"Oh, but you are just what I think you are, Mary Crawley," he said confidently. And what was that - a hypocritical, lust-crazed rebel? But maybe that's what she really was, and had just never been intelligent enough to realize it before.

Mary protested anyway, to try to dispel the wicked doubts and fantasies she was having. "No! I've never done anything!"

"Of course not. One look at you would tell me that," Kemal told her, and she briefly wondered what on earth _that _was supposed to mean.

He kissed her again, but she had one logical excuse left.

"Won't it hurt?" she asked, her voice hushed and fearful.

"Just trust me," he assured her.

Mary finally fully submitted herself to him and her desire as he laid her back on her dorm bed, but even then she wondered whether she was making a grave mistake.

**A/N: I'm back after a HUGE leave of absence! Sorry about that. I had, well, life and then I couldn't figure out how I wanted to portray the Mary and Kemal relationship. I eventually decided on portraying him as equally terrifying and seductive, the "unsafe" alternative to Matthew she wants to explore. I felt it was never really mentioned in the show that he basically pressured her into sleeping with him and she eventually gave in against her better judgment. Of course, she did consent - but she didn't want to at first. So I wanted to address that in my story. Please let me know what you thought of that, and about everything else! I LOVE reviews, especially ones that question my creative decisions or give feedback on them! They lead to further discussion :).**

**Keep well during these trying times!**

**-cxe128**

***just updated some grammar mistakes - I was not sure how to fix them without removing and re-updating this story! Ch4 is in the works, officially!***

**P.S. I only did half the episode here because I wanted to go more in-depth without making you guys feel like you had to read too much. :)**


End file.
